Divinity
by sass angel
Summary: Take one Slayer with some serious guilt issues, stir in one unsouled vampire with some significant memory lapses and what do you get? A post-grave fic like you haven't seen before. Four part conclusion. Yeah, i was suprised too.
1. Prologue

****

Spoilers: I am warning you now. This story is based on spoiler speculation. As far as I can tell my major plot points are not going to happen. But there are a million and one little things that will happen. I'm saying this story is all the way up to Seeing Red which hasn't aired at the time of this posting but thanks to the good people online I have already seen. So please once again, if you don't want to be spoiled wait until the season ends before you read this story and then please hustle your ass on back. J For anyone who is still with me…

Disclaimer: It's the rules…I know…I don't own it okay. Fine I said it. Moving on. 

Feedback: Keeps me sane. Really not kidding. I'm a drooling basket case without it. No one wants that. Think of it as a good deed.

Thanks and the rest: Heller…what would I do without you? Trisha…you know. I know you know and you know I know that you know that I know. Okay that went to far. How about…Thanks guys, couldn't do this without you. Yeah, that's better. For anyone who doesn't think I am certifiable read on. 

(Special note to all the wonderful people at Crumbling Walls. Hold on tight, we will get where we need to be. Much hugs and love to you all.)

****

Sunnydale July 2002

__

Step…Step…Step…Step…

One foot in front of the other. That was all there was to it. Simple. Precise.

__

Step…Step…Step…Step…Step…

"Did they have any?"

Buffy tore her gaze from her shoes to stare blankly at her sister. "What?"

"Twizzlers?" 

Buffy wondered if Dawn could pack just a little more contempt in the question. 

"Hello?…Did you get them?" 

Apparently, yes it was possible. Buffy fought the urge to roll her eyes in tandem with Dawn. 

****

Buffy stared at her empty hands and spread out her fingers as if to demonstrate the absence of anything licorice. "Sorry… I forgot."

Dawn turned her face away in disgust. Now, it was okay, a few months ago that look would have earned a long lecture on respect. The only thing that hadn't changed was Dawn's patented dislike for Buffy's actions. One could almost appreciate the effort it must take to hold onto contempt and betrayal that hard.****It was good ,actually, something Buffy could count on. The only thing she could count on. 

__

How pathetic was that? Your sister thinking you're a bitch is getting you through the day. 

Buffy sat down gingerly and watched the departure signs, slowly letting her eyes glaze back over. 

"Aren't you coming? This is *your * big plan."

Buffy glanced up at her sister and wondered when Dawn had moved from the chair beside her.

"Coming? Wha-?"

"Christ Buffy, would you get up? They just called our flight!"

Buffy stood slowly and picked up her carry-on. A quick glance at her watch showed almost twenty minutes had passed since Dawn had asked about the licorice. 

__

Where does it go? All the time you're supposed to have just poof… gone.

"Buffy!"

"What?"

"Your ticket. Give the woman the ticket."

Buffy stared at the papers in her hand and then back at the chair she had been sitting in. 

_Keep it together. Keep it together. Step…Step…remember._

Buffy collapsed in her designated seat and pressed her forehead to the window, she concentrated on the sounds of the other passengers settling in around them. Dawn was fumbling with her seatbelt and the stewardess was giving safety instructions. 

__

Normal, all perfectly normal.

Buffy pressed her face harder against the cool glass surface trying to still the ache that throbbed incessantly behind her eyes.

"You sure you remembered to tell him what time the flight arrived?"

Buffy nodded slightly. "Yeah, Giles said he would pick us up."

She just wanted quiet. Not peace, that was a commodity she couldn't afford. But quiet, quiet would be nice. 

"Where did you put the contracts?"

Buffy sighed, no rest for the wicked. 

__

That's you, the wicked… the failure. Maybe someone should write a letter to whoever chooses the chosen ones. They really screwed up.

Buffy removed her forehead from the window and looked at Dawn. "In the luggage, I think." 

"Oh great, what if they lose our bags."

The headache was swiftly entering migraine territory. "They won't lose our bags."

"You don't know that, it happens all the time."

Buffy wondered if the stewardess had a gag in the drink cart. 

"Dawn, they aren't going to lose our bags. Even if they do, the real estate lady has copies. Giles will meet us at the airport. Everything is fine. "

Dawn just sniffed and started to dig in her own carry-on. Pulling out a package of Twizzlers, Dawn stuck one in her mouth with a superior smirk. Buffy rolled her eyes. She hated smirking with a passion born of pain, especially that kind. 

"What do you have in there?" It was a long flight and Buffy knew ignoring Dawn the whole time wasn't a viable option. 

Dawn glanced down at her bag and quickly zipped it shut. "Just stuff I wanted to make sure was safe."

Buffy winced at the reference to the contracts again but pushed on. "Like what?"

"Just stuff."

Buffy raised an eyebrow tension beginning its deadly coil in her stomach. "Let me see."

Dawn started to shove the bag beneath her seat. "No. It's mine."

Buffy reached over and grabbed the straps despite her sister's best attempts to swat her hands away. "I said, let me see. If you've been swiping stuff again I'm-"

Buffy's lecture ground to a halt as the contents of the bag revealed themselves. She slowly stared to pull each item out with infinite care. A long blue scarf that had belonged to Tara. A small charm bracelet that was Willow's. When she got to a book she remembered as being one of Xander's favorites she stopped. Buffy shoved the keepsakes into the bag and threw it back at Dawn. Turning back to the window, Buffy resumed her previous position. She could hear the tears in her sisters voice but didn't have the strength to see them anymore.

"I just wanted something to-"

"I know. It's fine." Buffy's own voice was cold and completely lacking in emotion. The only way it could be now… or ever again.

Minutes passed before Dawn spoke. "Are you ever going to… you know…deal?"

Buffy watched the clouds swing by in the air outside her window. She couldn't remember when the plane had taken off. That was becoming the norm now. Time passed without her knowledge. That was good.

"I am dealing. This is dealing."

Dawn's snort sent an uncomfortable wave of pain up Buffy's spine. "Selling the house and everything we own is not dealing. Moving to England is so not dealing.," Dawn's voice suddenly dropped from the shrill pitch of a snotty teenager to the weak whine of a scared little girl, " It's running away."

Buffy closed her eyes. The sun was too bright. Everything was too bright. "It's not running…it's saving."

"Who? Who are you saving? There's no one left to save, Buffy."

"You, Dawn. There's still you."

Dawn ripped her irate gaze from Buffy's back and hugged the bag closer. It was her last piece of Sunnydale and she was going to protect it with her life. Slipping a hand inside, she dug under the momentos, cds, junk food and make-up until her fingers smoothed over the precious cargo hidden at the bottom. A small measure of peace stole over her and she risked a guilty glance at her sisters stiff profile. Assured she hadn't been caught, Dawn let her fingers stroke the worn black leather duster. 

****

****

Africa July 2002 

Spike sat slumped in the corner of a cave contemplating his life in the burning ash of his cigarette. 

"You have chosen."

The voice drifted up to the roof in a gentle arc and then descended softly to his ears. It wasn't a question and Spike didn't debate that. He'd chosen long before he came to this hole in the ground. Okay so maybe his original plan was more 'chip orientated' and 'vengeance like'. Never mind that it took a few painful trials for his mind to catch up with his battered and broken heart. The truth was within. Just like it always had been. 

__

And the slayer wins again…typical. 

Spike dropped the neglected smoke and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Trying with a quiet desperation to****effectively blocking out the sight and inevitability of the next few moments. Just a few more seconds to re-live what would be forever lost to him. He tried to picture her face smiling, then tried her determined one…maybe lost to him in passion.****With a growl of pain, Spike pushed harder on his eyes until blood threatened to flow. They were gone, all his sacred memories were lost to a time he would never get to see again. All that was left were the last seconds with her. Those were being burned repeatedly into his skull until he was almost positive it would combust under the pressure. The disgust, the fear and the knowledge that she had been right all along. Right about him…right about them. 

It would be over soon and he'd be the one to end it this time. The only option left in their twisted dance was kill or be killed…unless.

Spike raised his head and watched the last flickers of a candle subside on an altar that made up half the cave. He didn't suppose one flame extinguishing would make a big difference, there were thousands. He'd asked 'why so many' and the answer had been simple;****'fire equals life'. Spike wondered idly if his had just gone out. Standing slowly, he walked to the man in the center of the room. 

"Let's get on with it then."

He watched impassively as the shaman pulled a small leather sack from his dusty robe. There was nothing left that could be done to him he hadn't done himself. Spike's mind began to wander. Best not to think too much about the next step. He just couldn't help but ponder how a man, who barley reached chest-level could really have the power this shaman claimed to. 

Suppose *she * was only that tall too. Wouldn't have stood for the hair though. You would think an all-powerful being would at least know how to use a brush…or scissors for that matter.

Spike quelled the urge to touch one of the long gray ropes of hair that swung down around the shaman's bare feet. Something started to tickle his nose and it took a moment to realize that a light sprinkling of silver powder was being spread over his chest and head. 

Tearing his attention from the mass of dreadlocks, Spike felt himself drawn into black eyes older than time. They were sunken into a face that had seen more than it's share of hot desert sun. 

__

Let it go, mate…time to let her go

A small light of understanding momentarily flashed in the shaman's eyes and then quickly extinguished itself. There were a million lessons he could have learned here but he was only getting the one. Spike fixed his gaze on the altar when he felt a small hand cover his chest, directly over his dead heart. Finally this would end.

"That which causes you pain shall be removed."

The voice was quiet and soft; the burn working its way through Spike's skin was anything but. His head fell back and the angle made him realize, for the first time, that the entire roof of the cave was covered in patterns and symbols. The last coherent thought he could claim was that it wasn't his pain that would be removed…it was hers.

A blinding white light shot from Spike's eyes and mouth, so brilliant and alive it would have burned any human being who dared to look directly at it. A similar beam, this one blue, emerged from his chest. Together they rose towards the ageless marks on the ceiling, twisting and turning around each other until they became one pulsating stream. Skimming the surface of the roof, the essence of a soulless vampire touched on various symbols in a widening and distinct pattern. The shaman smiled slightly to himself as he watched which ones Spike was choosing to take with him. Moments later the lights separated and came crashing back home into the vampire waiting below. 

"It is done." The shaman brushed the remaining powder from his hands and turned back to his altar. 

Spike collapsed to the floor unconscious.

**__**


	2. Tomorrow

A/N: Since I can't get into the FF system my wonderful beta Trisha is posting for me and since FF won't let her post italics thoughts will be in these ( ). Thanks for the wonderful feedback and hope you all enjoy. :)  
  
   
  
   
  
England April 2003  
  
A shrill whistle from a boiling tea kettle invaded the serenity and coziness of the small kitchen. Giles tore his gaze from the clock and lifted the kettle. He looked at the table and the empty chairs for a moment before filling the two waiting cups. Easing down into one of the chairs, he lifted a package that had arrived the hour before. Tearing open the security strip, he couldn't stop his attention from drifting back to the clock.  
  
(10:15. Five more minutes.)  
  
Ripping his gaze from the clock, he forced his concentration to the contents of a large manila envelope. Rage suffused his system as he processed the first few lines of a brief cover letter. Five seconds later it was crumpled and winging it's way towards the trash can.  
  
(Bloody bastards. Who do they think…)  
  
Even as he thought it, Giles was on his feet and recovering the paper. Ignoring the files and photographs that had accompanied it, he smoothed out the letter and read it again. On the fifth read, through a plan started to poke at his tired brain. As much as he hated the idea, as much as she would hate him for suggesting it, something had to give. The clock on the stove was flashing 10:18 and he dropped his head in his hands as the weight of the decision he had to make in the next few minutes settled on his shoulders.  
  
(If she manages to sleep even five seconds past 10:20, the papers go in the trash. Council be damned. If not…)  
  
A slight scuffle on the stairs alerted him to the impending arrival of one the house's other occupants. A small well of hope started to build in his chest and his eyes glued themselves to the doorway.  
  
(Please let it be Buffy. Please let it be Buffy. Please let it be...)  
  
Dawn stomped into the kitchen, Giles quickly tried to cover his disappointment. Dawn's gaze took in him, the clock and the empty chair in one long disgusted sweep. With a small snort, she grabbed her car keys off the rack by the back door. Picking up her purse, she paused and looked back at him.  
  
"This isn't helping her." Dawn gestured to the table. " Letting her pretend isn't helping her." Not waiting for a reply, Dawn swept out of the door and slammed it behind her.  
  
Giles stared at the door for a moment and made a silent promise to Buffy, Dawn and himself.  
  
(I won't let her fall again.)  
  
Picking up the abandoned papers, he began sorting them into piles as he waited for the minutes to tick by. As the clock neared the designated time, he switched his attention to the second hand on his wrist. Ten more and he could throw the papers in the trash. Five more and he could breathe again. Three more…two more. Giles closed his eyes and waited.  
  
At precisely 10:20, a high pitched scream worked its way down to him from a bedroom upstairs. Giles shifted slightly in the chair and picked up his tea.  
  
  
  
Buffy sat up in bed as the last screams ripped from her throat, her hands still reaching for the ghosts in her dreams. She stared wildly around the room for a moment and then collapsed back on the pillows, tucking her arms around her shivering body.  
  
The dreams were the best and the worst part of her day. She despised the fact that every night her mind forced her to relive Willow and Xander's death, but they were the only thing keeping her grounded in reality.  
  
Easing her feet over the side of the bed, she let them drop to the floor and went through the mental reassurances she needed to keep her sane.  
  
(Tomorrow I will get there in time. I'll grab Xander's hand before he falls. I won't lose my grip on Willow's wrist. I'll save them tomorrow.)  
  
Clinging to the hope that she could save them, if only in a dream was what kept her going. It was her reason for getting up in the morning, for going to work, for just living one more day. Because waking up meant she could go back to sleep and try again. She could admit that it wasn't much of a lifestyle, but she also knew it was all she had left.  
  
Stretching her arms above her head, she closed her eyes and let her senses drift around the house, searching. A few seconds later her eyes popped open and she ran for the closet.  
  
(Damnit Dawn)  
  
No matter what she did or how loud she threatened, Dawn took off on almost a nightly basis. Buffy spent most of her nights tracking her sister down and dragging her home. She was almost positive at this point that she had been to pretty much every club North London had to offer.  
  
(I understand the teen angst thing, but couldn't she just get a tattoo on her ass like normal kids.)  
  
Dressing quickly, she headed downstairs to her Watcher and his nightly vigil. Pausing outside the door, she smoothed down her hair and fought with her face to produce a smile.  
  
(Get in, get out and don't pause for the nightly 'how are you feeling speech'.)  
  
Slipping into the kitchen, she busied herself with the act of putting on her boots and gathering her keys. Absorbed in the act of tying up laces, she missed the look of regret passing over Giles face. Finished with her boots, she stood and reached for her purse.  
  
"Buffy, we need to discuss some things."  
  
(Tomorrow put your shoes on upstairs.)  
  
Buffy started digging through her purse looking for car keys. "It will have to wait, I want to get going before she gets too much of a lead."  
  
"A package came today…for you. I really think you need to see this."  
  
At the urgent tone in his voice, Buffy raised an eyebrow and took the sheaf of papers handed to her. Sifting through them without really looking, she couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice. "Opening my mail now Giles? Doesn't that violate some code of ethics…"  
  
Buffy's voice trailed off as pictures of three, obviously dead women, separated from themselves from the pile of written documents. "What?" Buffy's voice cracked. Clearing her throat, she tried again. " Is this someone's idea of a sick joke?"  
  
A portion of her brain was screaming that the women were strangers but the more prominent part kept seeing Willow's face on every one.  
  
"They are from the Council." Giles said quietly.  
  
At the mention of the Council, Buffy's legs gave out and she collapsed into the chair.  
  
(What part of 'I quit' did they not get?)  
  
"From what I have read so far, there have been at least ten bodies found in the last month. The Council has been able to determine that each woman was involved in high levels of magic. They were all extremely powerful witches."  
  
Blinking rapidly, Buffy tried to process what he was saying.  
  
(Not again.) Her mind screamed ( Not ever again.)  
  
Drawing in a harsh breath, Buffy slowly lifted the closest photo to her and studied it with a hard-won clinical detachment. After a moment she tossed it back on the table with an indifferent shrug. "It's not a vampire. There are no bites."  
  
"We don't know for sure that vampires aren't involved."  
  
Buffy slammed her hands on the table so hard Giles' tea went flying and the papers were soaked. "We? Since when did you and the Council become a 'we' again?"  
  
Giles gathered the documents up swiftly, trying to save the ones that had escaped her outburst. "Buffy, my status with the Council is not the issue right now. Yours, however, is."  
  
"Oh, I think it's very much an issue."  
  
Giles pulled off his glasses and started to rub them furiously on his shirt, refusing to look at her. Buffy reached over and snatched the glasses away, demanding his attention. "What is going on?"  
  
"The council wants you to resume your role as the slayer and has offered me my position as your watcher back."  
  
It was said in such a rush that she had it took her a moment to put all the words together in her head.  
  
Buffy raised a suspicious brow. "And if 'we' refuse?"  
  
"Then they are prepared to instill any means necessary to ensure that either you abide by your duty or that another chosen one is brought forth. "  
  
"So either I toe the line or I die. They really need to come up with a new threat. That one is so overdone."  
  
"No Buffy, not you."  
  
Buffy stared at him for a minute, confusion marring her face and lacing her voice. "Well what good would it to kill you? That doesn't make sense, they would have to kill…oh."  
  
Giles nodded and confirmed the name Buffy couldn't force herself to utter. "Faith."  
  
Standing up quickly, Buffy grabbed her purse and moved towards the door. "I can't decide that. Nobody can make me decide that, not you and especially not the Council. I can't believe you would actually go along with this. What is wrong with you? No actually never mind, this conversation is over. I need to find Dawn."  
  
(I need to do anything but lie down on the floor and scream.)  
  
"Buffy! You can't just shrug this off and hope it will disappear."  
  
He didn't say it but she could hear 'like you do everything else' behind his words. The control she clung to was swiftly slipping away and she had no idea what would happen when it was gone.  
  
"You are still the Slayer. You have responsibilities that, quite frankly, you have been ignoring for too bloody long as it. A horrible, tragic accident happened, but locking yourself away from the world is not going to change it. Damnit Buffy, when are you going to accept that it wasn't your fault!"  
  
"How can you say it wasn't my fault. If it wasn't for me, Willow never would have touched magic. She did it to help me, they both did everything, all of it, to help me. And it killed them. I killed them. So don't ever tell me it's not my fault because I know it is."  
  
Giles reached out his hand towards her. "Buffy. No. They had a choice and they both freely chose to help you and be a part of your life."  
  
Buffy stared blankly at his outstretched hand. "No one chooses to die, Giles."  
  
Backing up a step, she turned and ran for the door, shoving down an overpowering wall of guilt in favor of the indifference she clung to like a shield.  
  
  
  
Dawn tilted her head to the side and listened intently to the man she was dancing with. Well, maybe intently wasn't quite the word. Okay, she wasn't even listening. She just wanted to dance. Just needed the momentary escape from painful memories and sleepless nights. Escape from every day of her life but most of all from the emptiness that gnawed at her heart and lived in her sisters eyes.  
  
A tingle up her back alerted her to a presence behind her and Dawn dropped her head against the broad chest of her dancing partner.  
  
(I really have to start checking for tracking devices. It took her less than an hour this time. )  
  
She felt the tight grip on her arm at the same time as Buffy's voice rose above the music.  
  
" Now I'm not sure, but mauling a seventeen year old is still an offence in this country, right?"  
  
Mortified, Dawn cast a tight smile at the confused man and then ripped her arm out of Buffy's grasp. Glaring at her sister, she spun around and ran for the exit. She made it out into the alley behind the club before Buffy caught up with her. A protruding brick bit sharply into her back when Buffy shoved her against the wall that made up the outside of the club. Crossing her arms over her chest, Dawn let a mask of indifference fall over her features.  
  
"You're 17 years old. You can't go running around these places. And I am getting really tired of chasing you down."  
  
"So don't then. Leave me alone for once."  
  
"You know I can't do that Dawnie."  
  
Rage burned through Dawn. She was sick of people that couldn't get their own lives together telling her how to live. "Don't call me that! I'm not a child. I don't even know why you bother, it's not like you actually care."  
  
"How can you say that? You're 'all' I care about."  
  
Dawn shook her head. " No you don't, not really, you don't care about anything. You're dead, or may as well be." Her voice cracked on the last and the words fell between them like a weight.  
  
"That may be true. But you're not and I intend to keep it that way."  
  
Dawn studied the blank look on her sisters face. She wondered if Buffy even realized the complete lack of emotion in her voice.  
  
(She's not even in there anymore.)  
  
Tearing her gaze from Buffy, Dawn turned slowly and started to walk back towards the club entrance.  
  
"Get back here. I'm not done…" Dawn froze as Buffy's fingers made contact with material of her coat. " What the hell are you wearing? Where did you get this?"  
  
Before she could form an explanation in her mind, Buffy was tearing the material off her shoulders. She watched as Buffy held it for a minute and then let it drop to the ground. Dawn stared in stunned silence at Buffy's tortured face. Slowly bending down, she picked up Spike's duster and held it in front of her like a shield. Buffy's gaze was locked on the coat and Dawn felt the beginning of hope flow through her as the realization struck that her sister was actually feeling. True, it was pain, but at least it was something. Dawn lifted a tentative hand. "Buffy?"  
  
Buffy jumped at the sound of her voice and brought her eyes back to Dawn's.  
  
"You can't walk around wearing a murderer's jacket." Aloofness colored the words and diminished their impact.  
  
Dawn saw the moment was passing as the light began to die again in Buffy's eyes. Desperate to get it back, Dawn used the only weapon she had available.  
  
(I'm sorry Buffy but this is going to hurt…for both of us. )  
  
"You wear Willow's necklace."  
  
  
  
Buffy stumbled back a few steps like she's been slapped. "That's not the same thing."  
  
Dawn let out a low, humorless laugh "Isn't it," she spat, "Willow killed people. She killed Xander and you don't hate her. Excuse me if I didn't realize that was a privilege you've reserved solely for Spike."  
  
Buffy sunk to the ground as her legs lost the ability to support her. Burying her face in her knees, she fought the tears blocking her vision. She wiped at her face and looked up at her sister, silently pleading for understanding. Dawn stared back unflinching. No one seemed willing to let her hide anymore.  
  
"It was an accident," she said quietly. "Spike is a vampire. Willow was just…."  
  
"What? Human? Had a soul? What?" Dawn's words sliced like knives through her mind.  
  
"Yes, all of that, she was human and in pain and she paid, with her life."  
  
Dawn sat down and studied her for a minute, anger making her vibrate. "So if you die then that just wipes it all clean. Sorry if I didn't get that, must have missed the memo." Buffy flinched and Dawn pushed a little more. " You better get with the forgiving then Buffy, cause Spike's been dead a really long time."  
  
Buffy shook her head in denial. "It's not the same. Willow did a lot of good things before…"  
  
"So did Spike and in the same amount of years as Willow."  
  
"How can you compare that? Willow did those things because she wanted to, not because…because she wanted something from me."  
  
Dawn calmly folded her hands and prepared to rip her sister's self- contained world apart. "When are you going to figure out that the world is not black and white? It's gray Buffy. Why don't you get that? It's a whole big pile of freaking gray  
  
"No, Spike spent over a hundred years-"  
  
Dawn waved a hand dismissively " Yes he did. He spent a long time doing horrible things but did you ever consider who he was before? I mean before he was a vampire. Do you know what he did then?"  
  
Buffy stared at Dawn, confusion evident on her face. "No," she said slowly," I guess not. Wait, he told me. He said he's always been bad."  
  
Dawn moved to get up, the disgust on her face an accompaniment to her words, "I don't know why I'm bothering. You would never be able to face the possibility that maybe you could be wrong."  
  
Buffy grabbed her arm. "Hold on here, he said…"  
  
"Of course he did and you believed him. Did you ever once notice that you never believed a word he said unless it was what you wanted to hear? Something that fit into the "Buffy world view". You may as well have told him to be evil. Actually, I'm pretty sure you did."  
  
Buffy wrapped her arms around her legs. "You don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Yes, I do. But I guess I'm not saying anything you want to hear. It's no big mystery why he left you. I know more than you ever did about him and I wasn't the one sleeping with him. Did you ever consider why?"  
  
Buffy shook her head  
  
"Because I 'did' listen, I 'let' myself know."  
  
Dawn's superior attitude was beginning to break through Buffy's defenses. Actually it was beginning to piss her off. "What, Dawn? What do you know about Spike that I don't?"  
  
Dawn shrugged and picked imaginary lint of her shirt. "Lots of things."  
  
Really piss her off. 'Like how many lives he took? How he slaughtered and maimed innocent people? Sorry if I wasn't all with the curious approach on those little tidbits."  
  
"That's not all we talked about, " Dawn said defensively. "I know things you never could. Because I asked, because I cared."  
  
"I cared, Dawn. So you can cut the holier than thou crap."  
  
"Really? Excuse me, I must have been mistaken. You two must have had some nice long chats while you were screwing each other into the floor."  
  
Buffy cringed and Dawn smirked. Casting her a sidelong glance, Dawn raised an eyebrow. " What's his last name?"  
  
"Spike has a last name?" Buffy desperately wished she could take back the question the second it left her mouth.  
  
"Doesn't everybody?"  
  
"Umm…Cher doesn't," Buffy mumbled.  
  
Dawn ignored her. "It's Aldrige. What was his mother's name? His sisters? When was he born?"  
  
"I…I don't know." Buffy lowered her head.  
  
(Shit! I can rattle off Riley's family tree in my sleep. )  
  
Dawn shook her head and answered the questions herself. "His mother was Mary-Anne. He had two sisters. Katherine and Cynthia. But they called Katherine, Kate because she was the baby."  
  
"Yeah and what did they call her after he killed them." Buffy cringed at the sarcasm in her voice but she was trying vainly to hold onto a piece of her dignity.  
  
"He didn't kill them. Spike is not Angel. When are you going to figure that out?"  
  
"You believe him." Buffy knew it wasn't in question and desperately wished she could have the same conviction.  
  
"Why wouldn't I. He had no reason to lie to me. But if you don't believe me why don't you find out?"  
  
"How in the hell am I supposed to find that out."  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes in the traditional 'duh' gesture. "We 'are' in England. He 'is' British."  
  
With that, Dawn stood up and brushed at her pants, "I'm going home."  
  
Buffy looked up and realized her sister was halfway down the alley. She completely lacked the energy to follow. Spike's jacket was now on the ground beside her and she reached for it. Slowly bringing the leather to her nose, she inhaled deeply. Dawn's perfume and shampoo, but underneath she caught his scent, tobacco, whiskey and mint.  
  
(I know something. I know he smelled like peppermints. And I can guarantee she doesn't know why.)  
  
Slowly running her hands over the inside lining of the coat, her fingers found the pocket hidden there. Pulling out a small green tin, she popped open the lid and smiled at the contents. He had always kept them there…for her. Buffy slowly put a mint in her mouth and brushed at the tears sliding down her cheeks. The events of the evening had proven one thing, her time was up. Tomorrow was here whether she liked it or not.  
  
  
  
"No one's been in this section for years."  
  
Buffy glanced up at the woman assigned to show her around, wondering when she would leave. Moving towards the graveyard portion of the estate, she trailed a hand over the name carved on the last one in the row.  
  
(Hey, Spike. It took me a while but I found you.)  
  
"Yes, it was quite sad. They died so young then, he was only 24. But look, the others lived a long life."  
  
Buffy forced her gaze to the other slabs in the family plot. Katherine, Mary-Anne, Cynthia, they all died after him. Long after him. She sat down on his grave and ignored the horrified look on the woman's face. Probably wouldn't do to tell her that it was empty, but it would almost be worth the expression on her sour face.  
  
"Well I'm off, but you stay as long as you like. I hope those diaries I found help."  
  
Buffy nodded at her departure and stared at the diary in her lap.  
  
Flipping through a few pages she sighed and pulled her worn leather duster closer.  
  
(He'd be so pissed right now. Not only am I sitting on his grave, I've got his diary and his coat. The 'bloody hells' would be flying.)  
  
A slight giggle escaped her lips and she quickly looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the crazy woman laughing in the graveyard. Assured of her solitude, Buffy leaned sideways and contemplated his tombstone.  
  
"Who would have thought you'd be a 'beloved' anything. Well maybe Drusilla would but we all know she's nuts."  
  
Buffy reached out and traced the letters again.  
  
"I think about you. Not all the time of course but sometimes I wonder where you are and if you're okay. Do you ever notice that you only realize how much you miss people after they leave? I mean, if we knew that before maybe we would be a little nicer when they 'are' there."  
  
Buffy dropped her hand and rubbed at a speck of dirt on her jeans.  
  
"Maybe then I wouldn't be sitting here talking to an empty grave."  
  
Staring at the diary, she thought about all the decisions she had been forced to make in the last few weeks, rejoining the council being the biggest. The first training session was scheduled for tonight and the idea filled her with a sense of dread.  
  
"I'm just going to hang out here for a bit, okay."  
  
Opening the book to the last entry she leaned back against his tombstone and started to read.  
  
May 24, 1880  
  
I am attending a small gathering tonight. I am fairly consumed with excitement. It has been said that she will attend. Cecily. Her name alone inspires beauty. One can only hope…well I can only hope that someday she will see me as I see her.  
  
Mother is calling and I must quit this entry as I will be preparing to leave soon. Maybe tomorrow I will have happy news to share.  
  
William Christopher Aldrige  
  
TBC…  
  
I know this part was a little 'Spike-light' but now that Buffy is learning to deal, he gets the whole next chapter to himself. It's only fair. 


	3. Forget me not

**Divinity: Something divine or superhuman; supernatural power or virtue; something which inspires awe. A celestial being, inferior to the supreme God, but superior to man. God . . . employing these subservient divinities. --Cheyne**

San Francisco October 2003

_What am I doing?_ She asked herself this for the tenth time in as many minutes. She stared at her fingers laced with his and tried to calm the slow fission of fear climbing up her spine. __

It just wasn't logical and she was nothing if not logical. Some said it was her greatest strength, most said it was her most boring feature. 

_That's why you're here, dork._

This was college now.****It was high time to leave 'little miss nobody' behind in Oklahoma. When her roommates had reluctantly invited her to go out with them, she had practically kissed them in gratitude. Hey she could be daring and impulsive, she'd drank that god-awful fruity thing right? So what if she'd immediately puked it up? That wasn't the point.  Chancing another glance under her lashes at the man who had lead her upstairs to the balcony, she smiled shyly. He was gorgeous and mysterious and she could brag for days about the handsome stranger who had whisked her away from her snobby friends. That was, after all, why she was here. 

So enraptured by his perfect lips, it took a moment to realize he was talking to her. Giggling like the foolish school girl she was, she took the place he indicated at the rail overlooking the club. She could see everything and everyone, the lights from the dance floor made her squint a bit, making her wish for her glasses, but she was fascinated by the vantage point. Even more intriguing was the feel of his hard body pressing against her back and thighs. 

His fingers began to trace a slow path up and down her bare arms. They came to rest on top of her hands, gripped tightly around the railing. He was whispering in her ear to relax and the low gravely tone was undeniably sexy. Sighing slightly, she let her head fall back on his shoulder and was rewarded by a slight moan from deep in his throat. Exalting in her first rush of feminine power, she gave an experimental shift of her hips against the hardness of his. His moan shifted into a low growl and she caught herself just before a delighted giggle escaped.  Those same long fingers that had been making such sweet patterns on her arms had left her hands and were now tracing a swift line up her thighs. 

The lights of the club were dancing before her eyes and she wanted to drown and fly at the same time. She got it now, this is what girls whispered of back home, her parents warned about and her preacher railed against. 

_Sorry Mom, Dad…God, but this is too good to miss. _

 It wasn't until she felt his hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her forward, did she notice that the hem of her skirt had found a new home at her waist. A moment of blind panic set in and she started to struggle but his voice was back in her ear, soothing her, and she automatically relaxed. In some deep recess of her mind it occurred to her that maybe there was some connection to his voice and her loss of inhibition but she quickly dismissed it as a ridiculous fancy. 

A low moan escaped her throat as her panties were pushed aside and he buried his fingers within her. No one had ever touched her there, save herself. The first thought to trickle through her mind was that she hadn't realized, until now, how cold his skin was. The second was that she didn't give a shit just as long as he never stopped touching her. His arms were around her waist,****holding her and moving her in time with the music blaring around them and the swift rhythm he was forcing into her body. His tongue was running a slow trail from her ear to her collarbone and back again. A massive pit of fire was churning in her stomach threatening to explode any second and she was more than happy to join the ride. She could hear her breath coming in frenzied gasps and a low scream broke from her throat when he grazed her neck with his teeth, pinching slightly.  **__**

_To hell with being a good girl. If this is how the other side lives, I'm switching teams. ****_

A low shudder formed at the bottom of her spine and began to inch its way up her back and through her blood. She'd never felt anything like the orgasm that was building in her body and she decided that she would happily die right here and now if it never had to end. 

Then, suddenly, it was gone…he was gone.

Turning quickly, her eyes darted around in confusion, finally settling on a blonde man who stood less than a foot away smiling at her. Frantically shoving at her skirt, she desperately tried to swallow her mortification. She realized what she had taken for a genuine smile at first was in fact a deprecating smirk.

"Are you-" at the husky tone in her voice she coughed slightly and tried again. "Are you a bouncer?"

He chuckled at the thought and moved forward, trapping her back against the rail between his arms. His gaze traveled  over her face and his hand came up to brush at a spot on her neck. 

"No, pet, I'm not a bouncer. Did you know that you absolutely reek of innocence? It's quite intoxicating to a certain sort. You know, if I were you, I'd set right to work shagging any available bloke I could. Might keep you alive longer."

"You can't talk to me like that. My boyfriend…" she trailed off as it occurred to her that didn't she know if he even 'was' her boyfriend. She also didn't have the slightest clue what his name was. **__**

The blonde rolled his eyes in exasperation and took a small step back. Reaching out a hand, he gripped her chin harshly and ran his thumb over the same spot on her neck that seemed to consistently hold his attention. Leaning in, he whispered softly into her ear. "He didn't tell you his name? Now that's just bad manners. Mind you, I'm not surprised. Boy hadn't learned not to play with his food either."

He lifted his hand and raised it, mockingly, in front of her face. Thick, red blood, her blood, dripped slowly down his fingers. She watched in horror as he proceeded to lick his fingers clean. Choking on the scream welling in her throat, she pushed past him and ran for the stairs. She lost control of the scream when a hand clamped down on her arm. Whipping her head back, she stared to sob as she encountered yellow eyes and a heavily ridged face. She almost fainted when the face exploded into a shower of dust. Looking up from the piece of wood that clattered to the floor, her gaze shot to a pair of uncompromising blue eyes watching her. "Go. Now," he ground out. She could see four more of the horrible creatures advancing into the small area, all heading for the man who had saved her. 

"But, you-"

The blue eyes suddenly changed to yellow and there was a slight crunching noise as his features began to shift. Turning around, she ran.  **__**

 "That hurts, you know!"

Spike glared at the slip of a woman bandaging his ribs. Rain simply arched an eyebrow and pulled harder. 

"Bloody bi-" At the slight crackle of electrical energy under her fingertips, Spike quickly backtracked. "Witch! Bloody witch!"

Rain grinned and moved from her place crouched in front of him into one of the kitchen's many chairs. Spike watched her bend forward and finish smoothing out the cotton bandage wrapped around his middle. Short dark hair, wide green eyes, little button nose, she was kinda cute …except for that nasty human business. 

"You know", she said pulling his attention back," this would be a lot easier if you would just take off your shirt."

Spike laughed, "and risk Tasha's wrath? I don't think so." Spike couldn't help the surge in his gut whenever he thought of Tasha. She was perfect; beautiful, smart, lethal, undeniably sexy, an amazing shag,  everything he could ever want in a mate and companion. **__**

_So why don't you love her, you stupid git. _

Rain snorted. "I don't know where she got that stupid superstition from," she said, starting to pack up the medical supplies, "Who ever heard of hiding your back to prevent someone from stabbing you in it? I mean**_, _**if someone was really determined I don't see how a little piece of cloth would prevent that.  It's completely ridiculous. I don't know how you put up with her."

Spike quickly hid the grin threatening to erupt. There was absolutely no love lost between Rain and Tasha, a fact both would attest to wholeheartedly. **__**

"After a hundred years of  Dru's ravings**_, _**one piddly little superstition is child's play. Of course.." Spike smirked, his tongue firmly between his teeth." It might not 'be' superstition. Could be she's just trying to prevent all you women from drooling all over my perfect body. Can't say I really blame the girl."

A loud snort could be clearly heard from the recesses of the cupboard under the sink, where Rain had moved to store the First Aid kit. "Don't worry, Spike. Your virtue is safe with me. One vampire in my bed is more than enough." 

_Lucky bastard._

Spike stomped down on the thought the second it emerged. Rain was a nice enough chit but she was still human. Tasha was right, the whole idea of vampires and humans together was abhorrent. Still**_,_ **one had to wonder how a screwed-up spell could wrought such a change in one of the most vicious vampire teams in history. Ian had been a legend and his sister Tasha a force to be reckoned with.****Between the two of them they had laid siege to more than their share of countries. An ill-planned hunt, an amateur witch and a few mispronounced words had changed three lives forever. 

Spike honestly wished he could have been there, to see the look on Ian and Tasha's faces if nothing else. According to Rain it had been priceless. She was the only one of the three who could laugh about it. Apparently Tasha and Ian had attacked her on her way home one night. The spell she'd shrieked was supposed to turn them to dust. Instead, it accidentally bonded their lives to hers.  If any of the trio died, the other two would immediately follow which ,thankfully, was ascertained quite quickly when Ian tried to kill Rain moments after the spell was cast and Tasha hit the ground in a heap.  

Spike had laughed for twenty minutes when he finally heard the whole story of how they came to be together. He laughed even harder when he found out how two of the most feared vampires in history were forced to help a tiny little wanna-be witch defeat the evils of the world. He could clearly picture Rain, all five feet of her, calmly informing them that she was going to battle demons and if they didn't get off their asses and help then they were all going to die. Tasha, to this day, was still trying to break the spell.  

Not that it would do much good now. The spell wasn't what kept Ian attached to Rain like an over eager puppy, though no one would talk about that either. From the bits and pieces he had been able to decipher, it had taken years for the love part of the Rain and Ian saga to get underway. Of course he'd pushed relentlessly to find out how such an unlikely pair had come to be, until Ian had finally cornered him and told him if he didn't drop it, he would be waking up staked out in the yard. All he knew was that someone important had died and that Tasha and Ian had never fed again. **__**

Spike grinned as she resumed her place at the table. "Where is the whelp, anyway?"

A flicker of annoyance crossed Rain's face but was quickly replaced with resignation. "Ian", she stressed, "should be back soon. That nest they were scouting won't take too long. I wish you would stop calling him that,  he really hates it."

Spike shrugged, completely unapologetic. "Wouldn't be half as fun if he liked it. "

"Speaking of your warped sense of fun, what was that crap at the club about?"

Spike started to fish for his smokes, avoiding her eyes. "Man's entitled to some entertainment,  no need to get your knickers in a knot," he mumbled. **__**

Rain grabbed his chin and forced his gaze to hers. "Spike, just because you can survive a staking doesn't mean you're indestructible."

Spike ripped his chin from her grasp and lightly fingered the tattoo over his heart, it was a heavy swirl of black writing in a language he'd never seen, with wide green vines twisting between the letters, binding it all together. A souvenir from his ill-fated trip to Africa six months earlier. He still had no bloody clue how he got it, but he knew what it did. That's how he had ended up in this mess to begin with. Spike jumped up from his place at the table and began to pace the kitchen, his mind and memories insisting on a much reviled trip.

He didn't want to think about Africa, the desperate plan that had sent him there or the subsequent failure of it.  If he hadn't needed the goddamn chip out so badly he never would have gone there. The plan had been simple; find some quack shaman, fix his head and return a new man, the man 'she' wanted. The plan, however, had turned into, get pissed on bad booze in the first bar he encountered, wake up on a boat back to the states sporting a brand new tattoo.    **__**

_God dammit Dru, just once couldn't you have wanted me the way I am. _

Spike mumbled something about 'best laid plans and the road to hell', which caused Rain to shoot him in a quizzical look. Shaking his head at her, Spike continued his pacing. He hadn't been able to find hide nor hair of Dru when he'd gotten back. Instead, hunger and desperation had forced him to hide out in alleys scaring people for cash. 

That was when fate had intervened and he'd met the cast and crew of Divinity. It was a stupid name, and he had made no bones about stating that at least twice a day. No one listened to him though, even when he'd pointed out there was nothing divine about three vampires, a witch, a hacker and a…whatever the hell Sage was.

.

_Could've been worse, _he mused**_. _**_Could've been something completely insipid like… the Scoobies. ****_

 He'd been hiding behind a dumpster waiting for a victim when he found them, or when they'd found him, it was never quite clear who had been looking for who. He'd hopped out into the open all fists and fangs, looking for enough cash to get him through the night and found the pointy end of a stake instead. It was almost comical when he thought of it now; all of them standing there staring at the wood imbedded in his chest, all waiting for the inevitable poof that never came. Then of course, there was that unfortunate incident when the whelp knocked him over the head, rendering the world a nice soothing black.  He'd woken up bound and gagged in their basement with a headache, a hangover and serious case of depression. **__**

_Truly pathetic._

So here he was; living in a manor, fighting the evil nasties of the world with two cursed vampires and a few humans that should, by all rights, have been dinner. Not that it started out that way, but Spike was nothing if not resourceful. He knew he wasn't going to survive much longer the way things were going, especially now that Dru wasn't around to protect him. So he'd swallowed what little pride he'd had left and begged them to take him in. It had all reasoned out quite well in his mind. He would still get his quota of blood shed, it just really wasn't all that important anymore which side he was fighting on. They were all essentially the same in his mind, except one side boasted acceptance and running water,  while the other promised a swift decapitation of the weak links. Not much a choice when one thought about it. It had taken a while for them to trust him and he'd had to go above and beyond the call of duty, to the point of almost getting himself killed, before they accepted him. Well that and the full-out seduction game he'd played on Tasha. That was actually the hardest part. It had damn near killed him to put aside his memories of Dru and pretend to love another woman. 

For the most part he was content. He had a roof over his head, a steady supple of blood and booze, sex whenever he wanted it, a good spot of nightly violence. What more could a bloke want?

_Love, passion, commitment. _A traitorous little voice in his head screamed.

Spike jabbed his thumbs in his eyes and tried to silence the constant nag in the back of his brain. He didn't love Tasha. He'd tried, but there was some kind of block inside him that prevented it. As much as he wanted to, as easy as it would make things, he just couldn't do it. He knew it was because his heart belonged to a bitch who didn't want it. 

 A warm hand on his arm brought him back to reality. Opening his eyes,****he stared into Rain's sympathetic ones. "You can't force it," she said quietly, knowing where his tangled thoughts had taken him without a word spoken between them.  That was another strange twist in his life. Spike hadn't had many friends. Christ, he didn't know if he'd ever had a friend. If someone had told him a year ago that some human girl would be his best one, he would have laughed in their face. But here she was and Spike could honestly say he would die to protect her. It just felt right. Before he could open his mouth to reassure her, a door slammed and arguing could be clearly heard in the hall. Seconds later, Tasha and Ian charged into the kitchen pushing and shoving at each other. 

Ian was built like a line backer. At six foot three he towered over the rest of them, but the image was subsequently ruined by the mop of unruly brown hair and big brown puppy dog eyes. That and his penchant for faded blue jeans and football jerseys. He would have blended in perfectly at any college campus. Tasha was the complete opposite of her brother. She had the height but that was where the similarities ended. Long, black hair flowed to her waist, over a slim, lean frame. Deep blue eyes burned out of a pale, aquiline face, that boasted piercings in her eyebrows, nose and lip. She consistently dressed in straight black**_, _**though Spike had tried to get her to wear some color. She had insisted it would ruin the image.  

Ian swooped down and lifted Rain to his level for a kiss and Tasha tucked herself into Spikes side, leaning in to brush her lips across his. They were a perfect height match and Spike had yet to figure out why that seemed off somehow. 

A slight clearing of a throat had four pairs of eyes turning towards the entrance. Framed in the doorway was Sam, or as everyone but Rain called him, Toad. He was a short, indiscriminate boy with large owlish eyes hidden behind thick glasses and short, army requisitioned hair. He was also a certified genius. Books, computers, electronics, nothing was beyond his capabilities. He could have been a millionaire but instead he chose to research and create advanced weapons. Spike would have asked him why but as far as he could tell the boy only spoke in one word sentences.  **__**

Ian put Rain down and moved back into the hall with Toad. Spike raised an eyebrow at Tasha. 

"We found the nest and Ian figures we should move in tomorrow. He wants to know if Toad is done with that fire gun thingy."

"Are you sure tomorrow is a good idea? That's not a lot of time to get ready. How many were there?"

"I couldn't see past Ian's huge head, but he said there were only a few. Should be no problem."

"I thought you said there were only a few," Spike growled

Ian shrugged and looked at the fifty vampires encircling them. "Maybe they multiplied." **__**

Spike glared at Ian's back. "Next time, you're bringing a bloody calculator."

Ian, Tasha, Rain and Spike stood with their backs together facing a mob of pissed off demons in the center of a tunnel system's ante-chamber. They'd been expecting a den of sorts. What they hadn't counted on was the club-like atmosphere of the cave. There was close to two hundred tables set up, along with a DJ booth and bar. Strobe lights winked on and off in a dizzying pattern distorting their view of the room. Six tunnels branched off from the room**_, _**leading out to various points in the city. 

Ian took a deep breath and squared his shoulders with authority. "We'll each take ten."

Spike snorted. "All hail the fearless and utterly inept leader. Maybe we should ask the other ten to wait their turn." **__**

Ian shifted uncomfortably, mumbling something about the metric system and Rain smacked Spike in the back of the head. "Just put the pointy end of the stick in the heart area and let's get the job done," she growled. Spike grinned and all four simultaneously rolled their shoulder, preparing to fight.

They didn't have to wait long. Spreading out slightly , they kept their backs to each other and engaged the first wave. Within seconds bodies and dust were cluttering the air and floor. 

Spike ducked low as a vampire came at him. As it sailed overhead he brought his stake up into its chest. Rising quickly, he kicked a foot back and up, connecting with the chin of one approaching behind him, even as he was engaging two before him. The world turned into one large, spinning kaleidoscope of dust and blood. With a cocky, blonde vampire standing smack dab in the middle grinning like a maniac. Adrenaline sang in his veins as he bounced on his toes searching for more victims.  **__**

Glancing to the side, he watched for a second as Tasha flitted through a crowd of five staking as she went. She reminded him of a ballerina when she fought. All graceful turns and well timed movements, she even stood on her toes. It was truly beautiful to see. Discerning that she was holding her own, Spike moved towards the mob fighting Ian and Rain. 

Ian was reminiscent of a bulldozer. He just put his head down and rolled over who ever happened to be in his path. The whole football analogy popped back into Spike's head and he made a mental note to ask Ian if he'd ever played. Rain's fighting style was another story entirely. She was quick, she was cunning, and she was resourceful. He'd actually seen her kill two vamps with a chopstick once. 

_Fights just like…_

****

Spike ripped his mind back to the present. The whole idea of 'that girl' set his teeth on edge and he really didn't want to examine why. Rushing headlong into the middle of the battle, he immediately dropped to the ground and rolled, narrowly missing an axe intended for his neck. A low rumble of utter delight rolled through his chest as his opponent stared stupidly at the axe trying to figure why that move hadn't worked. Spike leaned over and plucked it out of confused hands. "Thanks, mate. Always wanted one of those. Now here's how you should have done it." 

Two hours later they lay together in a exhausted heap on the floor. All fifty vampires were neat and tidy piles dust waiting to be swept up and disposed of. They had come out the other side of the fight with only a few minor injuries between them. Spike was lying comfortably with his head in Tasha's lap, grinning up at her like a kid who had just robbed the candy store. "You think the pub will deliver this time or do we still have to go ourselves?"  

"Ssshh," Rain moaned, "give me a minute for my bones to knit back together." **__**

A slight sliver flash caught the corner of his eye and he echoed Rain's moan with one of his own.  Shifting his head slightly, he glared at the apparition that had appeared in the middle of the room. A silver sheen created a halo effect around her slight frame. Spike figured it was probably due to the fact that she was entirely silver in color, from her floor length hair, to her skin and eyes. "Hey Tinkerbell, you ever going to get here 'before' the fight." **__**

Sage stood regally, regarding them all with a hint of a smile on her silver lips. Sniffing delicately, she swallowed a bite of the giant piece of pizza she was holding.  "I was hungry."

Spike growled in annoyance. She had shown up out of the blue three months prior and had informed them that she had been assigned to help. So far, her helping had consisted of either  showing up late or trying to get them all killed.  "I swear, if I wasn't so tired,  I'd rip her head clean off," Spike mumbled under his breath.

Sage glared at Spike and then ignored him to speak to the others. "You had all better perk up soon."

Spike shot her a confused look. "What? Why?"

"'Cause there are about a hundred more coming down the tunnels. You guys invaded The Sanctuary."

Spike rolled over and glared at Ian. " You stupid, idiotic moron," he railed. "The fucking Sanctuary! Are you insane?" 

Ian glanced around guiltily. "Well I didn't know."

The Sanctuary was a safe house for vampires and demons alike. At any given time there could be anywhere from ten to a thousand in residence. That's why it was safe;****no one was stupid enough to invade it. 

Sage nodded and tittered. Her laugh was a musical stream of bells. "And boy are they mad." She gestured towards the tunnels where a distinct stomping noise was making itself known.

Tasha spoke first. "What do we do?" **__**

****

Spike looked at his companions then at the six tunnels leading into the camber. Nodding sharply, he cleared his throat. "Right then…we run."

They turned towards the closest tunnel at the same moment thirty vampires streamed through it. Backing up into the center of the room, where Sage remained calmly finishing her pizza, they watched with trepidation as the other five tunnels emitted a steady stream of pissed off, weapon carrying demons. 

Spike was just about to start swinging his axe when Rain grabbed his arm and pulled sharply. Spike was about to ask what the hell she thought she was doing when he noticed Ian and Tasha sprinting towards an overturned table. That was when he saw the slight gold glow beginning off to his right. "Shit," he muttered, and took off for the table, scooping Rain up as he went, her speed no match for his. Diving over the table, he dropped Rain beside Ian and curled himself around Tasha. Ian took his place over them and Spike could hear Rain fumbling with the plastic blanket she'd kept with her since Sage had shown up. A quick chant of the necessary spell and Rain flung herself on top of them for extra protection. As a human, she was immune to the effects of the gold rays.**__**

Spike squeezed his eyes shut as a gold light exploded around them, similar to the effect of a nuclear blast. The resulting quiet was deceptively calm and they stayed put for a moment, no one wiling to leave their hasty shelter. 

"You know, if I still had my duster it would probably cover-"

"Shut up, Spike!" came three simultaneous voices. **__**

"I was just bloody saying!"

"Spike," Ian growled, " if I have to hear about that fucking coat one more time, I swear…" **__**

"Fine," Spike mumbled, but added a rather colorful threat under his breath of severe retribution if he ever found out who had stolen it. Finally, Spike felt the weight above him shift and blinked open his eyes. Running a hand over Tasha's face, he smiled. "You okay, luv?" 

She returned the smile. "I'm fine." Spike nodded and then exploded off the floor. Leaping back over the table, he stalked to the middle of the room where Sage still stood. A slight gold shimmer reflected off her silver skin the only evidence of her awesome power. 

"How many times have we told you to warn us before you do that!****" Spike screamed into her face. Sage looked at him, then the thick layer of dust encompassing the chamber. Shrugging nonchalantly, she gave a flick of a wrist and an orange appeared in her hand which she immediately began to peel. 

A strong hand on his arm stopped him seconds before he lunged for her throat. Rain stepped in front of him, pushing on his chest and Ian pulled him back. Spinning on his heel, Spike stalked back across the room to join Tasha, visions of decapitation running rampant through his mind. Moments later, the other two joined them and he noted that Sage had disappeared as quickly as she came. 

"Did she explain why she keeps trying to kill us?" he growled.

Rain shrugged and rubbed her tired eyes. "She said she was in a hurry."

"You know this is what I've been saying all along, they never include us. Oh it's all bloody fine and dandy to kill a few vamps here and there but whenever the big stuff happens, they never call. What's the big emergency? Apocalypse again?"

A slow grin spread across Rain's face and moved to Ian's. Spike glared at them both "What?"

"She said she was late for her manicure."

Spike threw his hands up and stomped towards the tunnels. "Well that's just bloody perfect. The dimension- hopping menace, who almost flambéed us, again, needed her pinkies polished.  "

A chorus of giggles erupted behind them. 

_"You're beneath me."_

_"Come in Spike."_

_"It would never be you."_

_"Tell me you want me."_

_"I'm using you."_

_"Tell me you love me."_

_"I'm sorry, William."_

_"Ask me again why I could never love you."_

Spike sat straight up in the chair, his gaze bouncing erratically around the room. When he assembled that he was, in fact, in the manor's living room, he relaxed slightly, closed his eyes and lay his head against the back of the chair. 

_Bloody, soddin', buggering dreams. ****_

A cool hand brushed over his forehead and Spike pressed his face closer to the comforting contact.

"Same dream?"

Spike slowly opened his eyes and smiled into Tasha's concerned face. "It's nothing, pet."

"It's not nothing. Maybe a few dreams is nothing, but every time you close your eyes now, you wake up whimpering and in a cold sweat. It has to stop, Spike. Please, just tell me what they are about."

Spike shook his head and clenched his teeth. "I don't want to talk about it. I 'won't' talk about it. Just let it be Tash."

Tasha glared at him and grabbed his shoulders, forcing his gaze to hers. "You need to do something about this." Her voice dropped to a softer tone as his body stiffened further. "It's getting worse, Spike. What if something happened to you in Africa? What if they did something else to you?"

Spike grabbed her wrists and pushed her hands away, his voice low and deadly. "I said to leave it alone and I mean leave it alone.  Nothing happened, I'm fine."

At her stricken look, Spike twined his fingers in hers and tried to appear calm. He didn't…couldn't discuss this with anyone, especially not Tasha. If he so much as glanced in another woman's direction she went into an apocalyptic fit. There was no way in hell he was telling her that he dreamed of the Slayer. How could he possibly explain that every time he closed his eyes, he loved a woman who, in reality, he despised. She'd skin him alive.

Still he was going to have to do something, and soon. When he'd first got back from Africa the dreams  been occasional and not very clear. More often than not he forget about them as soon as he woke. But over the last few months, the dreams had lost that hazy quality and were now moving swiftly into living,****breathing Technicolor. It was almost like he had actually been there. He could feel, touch and taste every single aspect of a life he'd never lived. **__**

_Bloody ridiculous. It never happened. Just a warped mind game from all the do-gooding going on around here. Or maybe the bloody chip is finally frying my brain._

Spike sat straight up in his chair.

_The chip! It's a  malfunction, some kind of short-circuit, making  my mind go all screwy. I left Sunnydale and went to Dru when those buggers messed with my head…not that bitch.  _

That was the truth, that was real, no matter what his dreams said to the contrary. Tasha was still watching him with that pinched look she had these days when he woke up. Spike sighed. He couldn't tell her but he could find a way to make them stop. "Listen, pet,  I'll get Toad to take a peek at the chip. Maybe a wire's come loose, messed up my head a bit."

Tasha nodded in relief. "That's a good idea, it's probably just a short circuit or something. He should be home soon."

Spike lifted a questioning brow at her. He wasn't aware the little hack ever left the house. 

 "He said he had to pick something up from the airport. I think I heard a car pull up a few minutes ago."

A few seconds later the sound of a door opening was heard and Sam's voice drifted from the foyer into the living room.

Spike shot a glance at Tasha as he rose from the chair. "Something or someone?"

Tasha shrugged and they both moved to intercept Sam. Equally eager to solve the dilemma of his dreams but for entirely different reasons. Spike reached down to lace his fingers with Tasha's, the tension in her frame was palatable and he frowned slightly.

 Sometimes he didn't understand Tasha. Every once in a while, she'd get this look on her face like her whole world was about to crumble and she'd cling to him like a lifeline.  Actually, now that he thought about it, the more frequent the dreams got, the worse she got.

Spike stopped their progress and pulled her into his arms. Leaning in, he brushed a soft kiss across her lips and tilted her chin up, staring intently into her eyes.  "Everything will be fine, luv. I promise. We'll fix this, okay?"

Tasha nodded slightly and leaned in for another kiss. Spike sighed against her lips, and prayed for the day that what he felt for, this beautiful, loyal woman in his arms, was more than just physical. So caught up in his own self-recriminations, he didn't register the shiver of fear and desperation that ran through Tasha's body as she pulled him closer. 

TBC…

Okay, so you hate Tasha. That's fine, actually if you didn't I would be insulted. Next chapter, we are going back to England to check up on Buffy. Not to worry though, Spike and Buffy will meet up soon enough. And let me just say, it's not going to be pretty. Questions? Comments? Let me know what you like, what you hate. We'll talk. J 

****


	4. Kryptonite

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has emailed me asking about this story. Unfortunately R/L has been kicking my ass lately. I'm trying to find the time to write but it is easier said than done. On the upside here's a nice long chapter for you guys. For reasons I can not even begin to imagine I don't seem to be able to load a html version of this without it looking seriously wonky, so in the doc version thoughts are in these .  
  
Happy Birthday to my beta Trisha!! Thanks for…well every little thing you do. And thanks to Heller for making the words 'you are completely evil' a compliment. And Happy 4th Birthday to my youngest Meagan. She can't read this but I know it's here.  
  
  
  
  
  
England August 2003  
  
I took a walk around the world to  
  
ease my troubled mind  
  
I left my body laying somewhere  
  
in the sands of time  
  
  
  
Buffy quietly eased the bathroom door shut and made her way slowly to the sink. Turning on the water she fumbled, with shaking hands, to unscrew the cap on a small pill bottle. She tossed a pill in her mouth and gathered her hair in one hand before lowering her face under the tap. The cold water poured over her tongue and she gulped greedily as it washed her little piece of sanity down. Standing up, she ran a hand through her now long- locks and splashed water over her sweaty face. Glancing in the mirror above the sink, she took note of the dark smudges under her eyes and the pasty texture to her skin. Disregarding the image as par for the course, Buffy sank down onto the closed toilet lid and pressed trembling fingers to her forehead.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
Buffy's head shot up as a shrill, slightly squeaky voice invaded the bathroom from beyond the door.  
  
"Buffy, dear, are you in there?"  
  
"Yes Nelly. I'll be out in a minute."  
  
"Well do hurry, luv, we still have a new shipment to shelve before closing."  
  
Buffy relaxed slightly as the footsteps faded away. A short stab of guilt pierced her heart for the worry she heard tinged in the older woman's voice, Nelly was a sweetheart in every sense of the word. She had, in her own way, become a surrogate mother to Buffy. That is, if one would call a forty-five year old women with shockingly purple hair and a penchant for leather, mother. On Buffy's first day of work, Nelly had taken one look at the thin, pale girl, gathered Buffy in a huge bear hug, and informed her that everything was going to be okay now, that she was among friends. It took every ounce of self-respect Buffy had not to burst into tears and beg for adoption. That was Nelly though, she always knew the right thing to say but more importantly she knew when not to say anything. If it wasn't for her real purpose in the store, Buffy was positive she would have accepted one of the many offers Nelly had made to move in.  
  
Buffy glanced around the spartan bathroom, tucked in the back of the magic store and sighed. When one dreams about 'going undercover', it's usually with cute little codenames and intrigue, all the cool stuff. Maybe even some hottie that just has to be the bad guy but you don't care because of his enigmatic personality and smoldering good looks.  
  
Just one more scenario that shows reality is all too fond of bashing the dream upside the head with a mean looking crowbar…repeatedly.  
  
'Unbelievable good fortune' were the councils words for her success in infiltrating the store, definitely not hers. Technically speaking, it wasn't 'exactly' her fault that she had been turned down at the more prestigious type stores, all ninety of them. She was the Slayer, not Research Girl. How was she supposed to know that skill was going to be required someday?  
  
But it wasn't all that bad in retrospect. Not that she was even an inch closer to finding out who the witch killer was, the caliber of witches that consistently disappeared were not the sort to visit a magic store of such low standing. The shops biggest claim to fame was the ever prevalent, much reviled stock of frog eyes which Buffy, much to her embarrassment, was now an expert at weighing and cataloging. The place could barely boast two customers a day. Not exactly conductive to seeking out a vicious murderer and Buffy couldn't actually muster the energy to care. Let the Council search out their murderer, she still maintained her sacred duty, patrolling nightly, training with the council. Hell, she even subjected herself to research with Giles. But it was obvious, to those that looked, the drive and fire she used to put in the effort was severely lacking. The few moments of peace she was afforded were here in the shop, drinking afternoon tea with Nelly and watching the city pass by through a haze of grime that covered the windows  
  
At the thought of Nelly and tea, Buffy stood and made her way out of the bathroom and into the tiny hallway beyond. Shrugging off a passing moment of dizziness, she headed down the hall towards the main room of the shop.  
  
"Aaahh Miss Summers. Glad to see your shining face today."  
  
As for that whole hottie aspect…  
  
Buffy smiled at Mr. Burke, Nelly's husband and owner of the store. She supposed he could have been attractive, about forty years ago. At close to seventy, Mr. Burke resembled a small bird. He was slightly taller than Buffy, with mousy brown hair and a pale complexion that belied his years spent under a London fog. But the resemblance was really enforced by the way he seemed to flutter around a room, not pausing in one spot for more than a minute. She really didn't know what Nelly saw in her husband but it wasn't her place to judge.  
  
Love is blind…or blindfolded.  
  
Mr. Burke tucked Buffy's arm his and patted her hand. "It's tea time my dear and I believe Nelly made those little pastries you're so fond of."  
  
At his conspiratorial wink, Buffy giggled. Resting her head on his shoulder, Buffy inhaled his spicy aftershave and allowed him to lead her into the shop.  
  
Why can't all parts of my life be this simple.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I watched the world float to the dark  
  
side of the moon  
  
I feel there is nothing i can do, yeah  
  
  
  
Buffy had come to love the little shop. The monotony of the job gave her the time and space she needed to breathe again. Well that and the pretty little pills her doctor had prescribed. Prozac was a god send. She had seriously considered petitioning the council to start every new slayer on them. Well until Giles had informed her, in no uncertain terms, that future Slayers were not going to be drugged with psychotropic pharmaceuticals. He'd even tried to hide her pills but Buffy was nothing if not resourceful and life before the pills was not a place she wanted to visit again. Even the nightmares had stopped, of course what they were replaced with was way more disturbing if you stopped to think about it. Which she didn't. She had found a peace of sorts, maybe it was more of an automatic pilot but she wasn't complaining. The only thing that scared her now was wondering when, if ever, the driver had to take control again. Either way you looked at it, she was content.  
  
The bell above the shop door sounded and Buffy was startled from her daydreams. She stifled a groan as a glance at her watch informed her that three hours had passed and she had no idea where they had gone. Her little lapses were becoming more frequent and she briefly wondered if she should try to get a handle on them. All considerations were pushed aside as the source behind the bell approached her.  
  
"Hi Giles," she chirped, brightly.  
  
Refusing to acknowledge the forced cheerfulness of her greeting, Giles glanced pointedly at his watch and then at her.  
  
Buffy groaned inwardly and tried to cover. "I know I'm late but we got busy…" she trailed off as Giles' gaze took in the empty store, save them and Nelly.  
  
Taking off his glasses and rubbing at his temple in irritation. Giles strove to keep his voice even. "Buffy we are two hours late for our meeting. Really, at this point in your life you should be able to show a small measure of-"  
  
She never caught the end of that sentence as Nelly suddenly appeared between them like a mother protecting her cub. "Oh Mr. Giles, how lovely to see you. I'm so terribly sorry for keeping Miss Summers but we had a rather large shipment of rare books arrive and I simply couldn't bear to deal with them alone."  
  
Buffy scooted around the counter and grabbed Nelly's arm, smiling innocently up at Giles, with an 'I told you so' expression in her eyes.  
  
An expression that Giles was not buying for a second. "The meeting has been postponed until later tonight, so we should have plenty of time to discuss your fascinating day. Rare books are something of a passion of mine and I would be delighted to learn the titles of some of those you encountered today, Buffy."  
  
Buffy cringed and headed for the back store room for her purse. She could hear Giles inquiries about some old, dusty book. Buffy rolled her eyes, quickly deciding the 'nap excuse' was going to be coming up in her near future. It was just typical of him lately, he never listened to her. Not like Nelly did. He was all council this and council that. Just once she'd like to tell him to take his council and shove it. Stalking back into the room, she stomped over to him. "Kay I'm ready. Let's go."  
  
"Here you are Mr. Giles." Nelly's voice behind her released some of the anger in her system but not much. Buffy glanced dismissively at the book Giles took and turned a genuine smile on Nelly. Leaning in, she brushed a small kiss on her cheek in thanks. "See you in the morning."  
  
"Of course, dear. Have a lovely evening at your meeting."  
  
Buffy moaned quietly in her head. There was nothing lovely about a meeting with the council. Following Giles out of the shop, she mentally counted the hours until she would be back in its warmth and safety.  
  
Giles cast a side-long glance at Buffy as they headed out onto the busy street. Running a hand over his jacket, he patted the ledger he had lifted from the shop while Nelly had retrieved a book for him. He had a few short hours to prove his suspicions before the rescheduled meeting but if his hunch was correct, it was going to be eventful. He sighed inwardly as his mind played over the evidence he had discovered. If it panned out, Buffy's life was going to take yet another unfortunate turn. He almost hoped he was wrong…almost.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
If I go crazy then will you still  
  
call me Superman  
  
  
  
Giles slowly placed the phone back on the receiver. It was amazing how much information could be attained if one knew where to look. Buffy waltzed into the kitchen and picked up her coat. "You ready?" she snapped bitchily.  
  
Ignoring the tone, he simply nodded and opened the back door for her. He barely contained the cringe he always felt when he saw her wear 'that' coat. She only wore it now when she was going out to patrol or to do council business. He knew she did it to annoy the other members, as there was no mistaking William the Bloody's duster. He never mentioned it though. There was so little left of his Buffy that this one act of defiance gave him a sense of hope.  
  
As least she's not sleeping in the damn thing anymore.  
  
Locking the door behind him, Giles escorted Buffy to the car and then slid behind the wheel. For a while, when she first came back to the council, she had seemed to improve, but he knew now that it had all been a façade. Buffy, his Buffy, was hidden somewhere under layers of regret and guilt. For all intents and purposes, she functioned as any other person. She worked, patrolled, gossiped with Dawn, and even went out the odd night to socialize. But he lived with her and knew the truth. She rarely slept, he constantly had to remind her to eat and it was reaching the point that he had to tell her when to bathe.  
  
Giles shook himself as the mansion that housed the headquarters of the Council came into view. A slow measure of guilt was creeping its way up into his throat and he swallowed hard to dispel it. He knew how much Buffy loved the shop and the people she worked for, that she had found peace and contentment there. He just hoped she wasn't going to despise him for ripping that safe haven to shreds.  
  
Bringing the car to a halt, Giles got out and waited for Buffy to join him on the sidewalk. They crossed the imposing gates together and moments later were ushered into an elaborate office. They took seats in two of the five overstuffed chairs placed before the head of the councils desk, neither spoke as the prominent members arrived.  
  
  
  
You call me strong, you call me weak,  
  
but still your secrets i will keep  
  
you took for granted all the times I  
  
never let you down  
  
  
  
Buffy glanced absently around the room, lost in a haze of her own making. Spying a dish of candy on the corner of the desk, she reached for one and accidentally bumped her arm against the woman seated closest to her. Buffy opened her mouth to apologize but snapped it shut when she saw the sniff of disgust on the woman's small, pinched face. Buffy grinned and ran her fingers over the lapels of her coat in a sexual manner as she settled back in the chair. The woman almost choked on her tongue and Buffy grinned wickedly.  
  
Spike would be so proud.  
  
Buffy shifted slightly in her seat and let her mind wander. There was little here to hold her interest, most times nothing did. Except her obsession with a certain member of the undead, that was a constant. She had read and reread all the journals, finally admitting that there were no answers in them. The life and times of one William Aldridge was not coming close to solving the ambiguities of one Spike, aka William the Bloody. William may have been where Spike started, but it was a far cry from where he ended up.  
  
And thank god for that.  
  
Buffy cringed a bit at the thought. For all her supposed convictions and seemingly concrete ideas of right and wrong, the fact of the matter was the man she had discovered in the books would have had a serious fight on his hands to attract her attention.  
  
Unlike the way Spike consumed it.   
  
She could also admit in some infinitesimal way that maybe, just maybe, Spike was better off with the way things had turned out. William was a dreamer. Spike was a realist, as much as he could be. The potential of William had manifested into the all-consuming passion of a being that reveled in life, not hid from it. But then that lead to the crux of the problem. If she couldn't love William, a kind sweet generous soul, much like Angel as a matter of fact, then how could she love Spike? Not that she did love Spike, it was just an obsession borne of loneliness and a loss of home. She knew this, had dissected and learned it with painstaking care. So why couldn't she just cut it loose now? Why did she keep going over it again and again? And more importantly, why was his grave the first place she went on the way to patrol and the last on the way home?  
  
Buffy was pulled from her thoughts by something Giles was saying. Or rather, by a name he was saying. Sitting up in her chair, she centered her attention on her Watcher.  
  
"Miss Madeleine Combs was a customer at the same butcher shop Mr. Burke frequents and Samantha Roberts visits the same physician as Nelly."  
  
Buffy grabbed Giles' arm and dug her nails into his skin. "What are you saying," she whispered hoarsely.  
  
" Buffy. " He began trying to release her fingers, and failing, just pressed his hand onto hers. " I've checked and double checked. Every last death is in some way connected to Nelly and Mr. Burke."  
  
Buffy's eyes grew wild and desperation tinged her voice. "It's a coincidence Giles. It has to be. Just because they go to the same stores means nothing. You're wrong. You're wrong." She had no idea when she'd dropped to her knees in front of him but she was not moving until he told her this was all a mistake.  
  
Giles gripped her arms and stared into her eyes, as if by sheer force of will he could convince her of the truth. "Buffy, please calm down. I'm not wrong. At the shop today I managed to obtain access to the last piece of the puzzle, a listing of receipts and transactions. I made some phone calls and discovered that the shop is most certainly not the Burkes main source of income."  
  
A quiet stillness spread slowly through Buffy's system. "What do you mean?"  
  
" In all of the deceased, we have discovered traces of a drug in the blood. After much research we have determined that it seems to enhance a witches natural abilities. It has proven very useful when one wants to cast a particularly difficult spell. The Council used it for a time but unfortunately the side effects are too intense. Most who take it become addicted immediately. We have been unable to determine if the addiction stems from the drug itself or from the power involved but most are willing to do anything to keep the high they achieve. The Burkes have amassed more than a small fortune selling it."  
  
Buffy stood slowly, determination stiffening her spine. "That doesn't make them murderers. The drug killed those women. I'm sure if the Burkes were made aware of what it did they-"  
  
"No Buffy, the drug didn't kill those women. It doesn't have that kind of effect. It may drive them insane, maybe even enough to take their own life but it does not crush them into a shell of their former selves. That was done by outside forces and the only link we have tying them all together is the Burkes. I'm deeply sorry Buffy. I know how much you've come to care for-"  
  
She didn't register that she had slapped him until the stinging in her palm became noticeable. A brief moment of horror washed over her but it was quickly replaced with rage and tears. " They love me, Giles...Me. Not the Slayer. They don't expect me to go out and fight off the world for them. They just want me for me."  
  
"Buffy, please, I-"  
  
"No. This conversation is over. If you want to destroy the only people, other than my mother, who never asked me for a thing then you do it on your own. I'm done," Buffy let her gaze encompass the room before settling on her watchers eyes, "with all of you."  
  
With that Buffy pulled her dignity together, turned on her heel and walked away.  
  
  
  
I watched the world float to the  
  
dark side of the moon  
  
after all I knew it had to be something  
  
to do with you  
  
  
  
Buffy's bravado lasted exactly five seconds after the door shut behind her. Then she ran. She ran from the council, she ran from Giles and mostly she ran from herself. When her lungs finally gave out, she dropped to her knees and sat in the street as tears coursed over her face. She'd had enough, she just, quite simply, couldn't take anymore. Every where she turned there was a betrayal waiting to happen and she was so sick of it. Each time she had let someone into her exceedingly fragile heart they were stolen from her. Either ripped apart because of her destiny or she just didn't hold on tight enough and they slipped off of their own accord.  
  
Buffy threw her head back and screamed. She screamed for Willow and Xander, for Tara and her Mom, for Angel and Riley and she even screamed for Spike, him maybe the loudest of all. Then she cried for the countless others that barely registered in her memories but were a part of her failure none the less. Lying in the middle of an alley curled around herself Buffy quietly, with whimpers and whines, let all the pain eat away at her until there was just an empty shell of the Slayer the world once knew. Buffy Summers had finally found true rock bottom.  
  
It could have been hours later but more likely only minutes, Buffy felt a hand on her shoulder. Blinking open her swollen bloodshot eyes she caught a flash of purple and sighed in relief.  
  
"Buffy?…Child, what are doing out here? What's wrong?"  
  
Buffy stumbled to her feet and launched herself into Nelly's arms. Her sobs raised in volume again and Buffy let herself be led into the shop she hadn't realized she'd run to.  
  
  
  
if I'm alive and well, will you be  
  
there holding my hand  
  
I'll keep you by my side with  
  
my superhuman might  
  
kryptonite  
  
  
  
Buffy drank the last drops of tea from her cup and set it gingerly on the table. She fumbled with the cuff of her coat, unwilling to make direct eye contact with the two seated across from her. This was her last stop, the last chance to see if she was truly loved. The silence was unbearable. She had told the Burke's everything. And she meant everything, from the moment she was called to the minutes before Nelly found her. Exactly why she had done it was a mystery. She'd had no intention of unburdening herself when Nelly had led her to the apartment above the shop. But once she was seated in their living room with a cup of tea in her hand and one of Nelly's handmade throws across her legs she had found she couldn't stop.  
  
For their part, Nelly had done a lot of sympathetic tongue clucking and Mr. Burke had kept squeezing her hand, urging her to continue. They hadn't even seemed mad when she informed them that the council believed they were murderers. In fact they hadn't seemed shocked by any of it. Buffy guessed it was because they had been surrounded by magic all their life.  
  
Buffy's attention was drawn to a movement off to her right and raised her eyes to meet Nelly's, who had come to sit beside her. "Everything will be okay, Buffy. You have us now and we will take care of you."  
  
Buffy sighed and went willingly into the arms held out for her. She was safe here, she was at peace and for the first time in a long time she was happy. Nelly had begun stroking her hair and the motion was making her drowsy.  
  
So tired  
  
"Ssshhh child, sleep."  
  
Buffy nodded slightly and closed her eyes. Within moments she was asleep. She never heard Giles arrive.  
  
  
  
  
  
You stumbled in and bumped your head, if  
  
not for me then you would be dead  
  
  
  
Buffy watched the people pass beyond the window of the store. It had been two weeks since her flight from the council and she had yet to leave the shop. She hadn't called Giles or even Dawn, which should have struck her as unusual but she couldn't muster the energy to concern herself. They hadn't bothered to call her either. She was in an almost perpetual haze and had no desire to shake it. Her days had lapsed into tea and sleep with the odd bout of lucidity when she made her way downstairs to work in the shop. The Burkes let her be, even encouraged her self imposed resting period.  
  
"Miss? Miss?"  
  
Buffy dragged her attention away form the window to stare blankly at the woman in front of her.  
  
"Miss, do you have anymore of these?"  
  
Buffy looked absently at the handful of casting stones in the woman's hand. "I think there is more downstairs." Buffy marveled at her own voice. It sounded so calm, a little slurred, but calm none the less. Coming here was definitely the right decision.  
  
Buffy was brought back to the present by the woman's impatient throat clearing. Jumping slightly, her brain scrambled to catch up with the conversation. "I…I'll just go get them."  
  
The woman nodded and Buffy glanced around for Nelly. She hated to go downstairs, it was nothing more than a cellar really and every time she went visions of that time with the mummy hand crept up. Sighing when she couldn't locate Nelly, Buffy headed for the cellar door.  
  
It took her close to ten minutes to find the stones as she kept forgetting what she was there for.  
  
Maybe I should buy some post-it notes or something…Or just quit coming down to work.  
  
Deciding the latter sounded more promising, Buffy headed for the stairs only to be stopped by a slight thumping noise behind one of the shelves that lined the room. Her first instinct was that a rat had gotten into the walls, but as the thumping grew louder and more pronounced Buffy began to pick out a rhythm in the sound. Slowly putting down the box she was carrying, Buffy moved towards the shelving and after a few minutes of grunting and pulling, she managed to push it aside. She was momentarily distracted by the realization that her Slayer strength had seemingly evaporated, but the thumping garnered her attention again and she placed a hand on the wall.  
  
Buffy fought hard at the fog in her brain. Even the simplest of thought processes were becoming increasingly difficult these days but there was something important here, something she needed to remember. Pressing her ear against the wall, she screwed her eyes shut and concentrated.  
  
Three short thumps, three long ones, three short ones. Then a pause and then the same pattern, over and over.  
  
Buffy's eyes widened as, finally, an old memory asserted itself. The taps were code, or more specifically, SOS. Buffy stumbled back from the wall in horror. Searching the room frantically for something to penetrate the barrier, she finally settled on ripping a loose pipe from the ceiling. With what was left of her strength, Buffy crashed the pipe into the wall, satisfied when it produced a small dent. Rolling her shoulders, Buffy went to work.  
  
It took close to an hour but she finally managed to make a small hole in the thick plaster. Ripping at it with her fingers, Buffy stuck her arm in the opening and shrieked when it was seized in a claw-like grasp. Scrambling back, she pulled her arm free of the wall but couldn't shake the grip and she stared numbly at the fingers wrapped around her wrist. The room suddenly became very dark and Buffy fought against the encroaching dizziness even as she landed on her back on the floor. Seconds later, she was on her feet attacking the wall in with her fists. The fingers had been wearing Giles' ring.  
  
  
  
Buffy choked hard on the scream that welled in her throat when she finally managed to pull him free. He looked emaciated, a mere shell of the man she had seen two weeks previous. His body was covered in wounds from more than one beating and he was nearly starved to death. She had no idea how he'd managed to survive, much less be coherent enough to alert her to his presence. Dropping to the floor, she pulled him onto her lap and rocked slightly as her tears splashed on his face.  
  
"Buffy…" The sound was barley above a whisper.  
  
"I'm here Giles. I'm here. You're okay now. How long were you in there?"  
  
" F…Four…days."  
  
"Oh God Giles. You're going to be okay. I'll get you help. I'll go get Nelly and-"  
  
The grip on Buffy's hand tightened painfully and Buffy stared, surprised at the strength, into his eyes. "What is it?"  
  
"They…they did this…put me in…"  
  
Buffy shook her head in denial.  
  
"Buffy…please…"  
  
Buffy stared at the wall and then back at the man half-dead on her lap. Closing her eyes, she fought the overwhelming urge to run back to her safe, idyllic life. It would be so easy. Too easy. Her eyes opened with a snap and she carefully began to lift Giles. "We'll get you home and then we can figure out what needs to be done."  
  
"Well, this is unfortunate."  
  
Buffy froze at the voice drifting down from the top of stairs. She watched in horror as the voice became a body and she was face to face with Mr. Burke. "Just give him to me, dear, and you can go back to your room where everything is safe."  
  
Buffy shook her head slightly, a strangled, "No," falling from her lips.  
  
Mr. Burke smiled and clucked his tongue. "Buffy, it's the only way for you to be happy. You are happy, aren't you?"  
  
Buffy stared into his warm brown eyes and swayed slightly on her feet. It would be so easy.  
  
Buffy! Wake the fuck up!!  
  
Buffy jumped at the voice in her head. The voice wasn't such an issue, it was more to do with the fact that it wasn't hers. But whoever had invaded her mind was right. No matter how many times she ran away from her calling, it was always there, along with the man in her arms. Tightening her grip on Giles, she started to push past Mr. Burke.  
  
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Buffy, but I can't have you two off buggering up my plans."  
  
Buffy flinched as the upper door slammed shut and a red glow filled the room. Easing Giles down on the step, she turned to face Mr. Burke, and was in no way prepared for what she saw.  
  
She stared in horrified fascination as Mr. Burkes features began to change into that of a much younger man. In moments the seventy some odd year man had been replaced with one closer to her own age. Buffy blinked.  
  
"Yes, it is rather disconcerting at first. I was going to show you eventually but I guess that's just a fanciful dream now."  
  
"You…you're…," Buffy stumbled through her mind for an appropriate description and blathered out the first thing to come to mind, " cute…"  
  
"Mmm, " he nodded in agreement, " I had such plans for you Buffy, but now you've gone and ruined them. I must say I'm quite disappointed."  
  
"Plans?" Buffy narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What plans?"  
  
He crossed the small space between then and ran a finger down the side of her face. "You know, I could have made you forget all about that vampire. Pity."  
  
Buffy shoved his hand off and stepped back. Turning around, she stooped to lift Giles. "We're leaving."  
  
A wave of energy hit her in the back and sent her sprawling on the floor face first. It was a struggle but she managed to find her feet and launched herself at Mr. Burke, only to be caught immediately against his chest in a punishing grip. "Haven't you figured it out yet, little girl?"  
  
"What, you sick prick," she spit.  
  
"You know for a Slayer you're really quite stupid."  
  
Buffy stared at him for a moment before the pieces fell into place. "You drugged me!"  
  
"Of course, how else could we control you."  
  
Buffy flailed helplessly in is arms for awhile until she finally had to give in to the drugs coursing through her body. She had to accept it, for now she was helpless. "What are you going to do?"  
  
Buffy shivered as his now green eyes shifted passed her and came to rest on Giles. "Finish what I started"  
  
  
  
I picked you up and put you back  
  
on solid ground  
  
Buffy shook quietly in Giles' arms. There wasn't much space behind the wall but she didn't need a lot. As it was she lay curled in his lap. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She'd began her litany the minute the wall was sealed and two hours later she was still going strong.  
  
"Please Buffy, do shut up. I prefer not to die with a headache on top of everything else."  
  
Buffy's reply was cut off by a loud bang on the other side of the wall. Seconds later the wall was gone and Nelly leaned heavily against the opening before slipping to the floor. Buffy helped Giles out and then turned her considerable anger on the woman she had trusted. All arguments faded in the wake of the woman's appearance.  
  
She's worse off than Giles.  
  
Nelly was covered in cuts and large welts. Her eyes were almost swollen shut and her clothes were ripped and hung in tatters around her. It almost seemed like her body was collapsing in on itself. Buffy leaned down beside her and lifted her chin.  
  
"Nelly?" she whispered  
  
Nelly took her hand and placed a small kiss in the palm. "It's okay, child."  
  
Buffy was torn between her desire for revenge and her love for a friend. Moments passed before she made her decision. "We need to get you to a hospital."  
  
Nelly laughed slightly but the sound came out as more of a gasp. "No hospital can help me. He's taken almost everything I have. What was left I used to open the wall."  
  
More pieces of the puzzle clicked into place in Buffy's mind as slow tears dripped from her chin. "You're a witch. You've been taking the drug."  
  
Nelly nodded slightly and gripped Buffy's hand. "Yes, I helped him. Don't cry for me, child, I have done my share of evil in this world."  
  
"Did you…did you kill…"  
  
"No, but I didn't stop him either. He waits until they are so far gone they will do anything to get a boost and then he takes their power, sucks the life force out of them. "  
  
"But why?"  
  
"Power. He needs the power."  
  
"For what."  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Then why did he take yours? He needs you, you were helping him."  
  
"I couldn't let him hurt you. You're so pure, so sweet, my little Buffy. I couldn't let him take that away."  
  
Buffy gathered the woman in her arms, and held her as her last chance for a mother slipped quietly away. "Where is he?" There was no mistaking the cold, calculating tone in her voice.  
  
Nelly pulled Buffy's chin down until she was forced to look in the woman's eyes. "Leave it be, Buffy. If you follow him it will only end in death, probably yours."  
  
"Where did he go?"  
  
"I'm not sure. He said it was time to finish what he started."  
  
Nelly's breathing started to deteriorate into small gasps and Buffy shook her slightly. "Nelly don't die. Please don't die."  
  
"It's just my turn, luv, it's just my turn. Buffy, listen to me. You need to quit taking the pills. They're killing you."  
  
Buffy started in confusion. "They're just anti depressants."  
  
"No, luv, they're not."  
  
Buffy sat in silence as the woman slipped away in her arms.  
  
Lowering Nelly's lifeless body to the ground, Buffy crawled over to Giles.  
  
"I'm going to find him Giles. Will you help."  
  
Giles raised a shaky hand and cupped her cheek.  
  
"There's my Slayer."  
  
  
  
I really don't mind what happens now and then  
  
as long as you'll my friend at the end  
  
  
  
Buffy dropped to her stomach in the dirt. Reaching over the edge of the cliff, she peered blindly into the darkness, her breath coming in heavy gasps.  
  
"Xander! Xander grab my hand! Oh god please! Xander!  
  
Buffy blinked as her dream shifted and she found herself sitting in a graveyard. Swinging her head around, she encountered a familiar tombstone and her brows drew together in puzzlement.  
  
"What am I doing here?"  
  
"I figured it was time to throw a little variety into your dreams."  
  
Buffy's head shot up and her mouth dropped as the figure behind the voice approached.  
  
"Willow?"  
  
"Hey Buffy."  
  
Buffy did nothing for a full minute but stare and then she grabbed the girl and held on for dear life. The two women clung to each other for long minutes before Willow finally pulled away to stare into Buffy's face.  
  
"I miss you."  
  
"I miss you too," Buffy choked out. " I miss you so much."  
  
"Buffy, I need you to listen to me. You can't keep going the way you have been. "  
  
"I know Will, I'm getting better. I stopped taking the pills. The withdrawal has been a major bitch but I'm dealing."  
  
"I know Buffy. That's great, you're doing great, but I mean inside. You're so shut down. You need to open up your heart again. You need to feel again."  
  
"But it hurts." The sentence came out caught between a whine and a whimper.  
  
"It's supposed to. You hurt and then you heal and then you move on to the next time."  
  
"But why, I don't understand, why would I want to do that again?"  
  
Buffy stared at the beautiful pure smile that erupted on her friends face. "Because of all the joy in between."  
  
"Can't I just stay here with you."  
  
Willow's laugh, the one Buffy had loved for six years, bubbled forth and bathed her in its essence. "No more hiding, Buff. It's your time to live. Really live and really love."  
  
Buffy arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Love is a highly over-rated emotion."  
  
"But sometimes it's all you've got."  
  
Buffy glanced around as the place Willow had sat was suddenly empty. "Willow," she whispered quietly. Her gaze frantically shooting around the quiet graveyard. "Willow!" she screamed.  
  
"Willow!"  
  
Buffy shot straight up in her seat as the car came to stop. Her driver made a slight throat clearing sound and Buffy blushed. This associate of the council probably thought she was nuts. Buffy rolled her head on her shoulders and tried to clear the dream fog from her mind.  
  
It had taken longer than expected to track down Mr. Burke. Eventually the council had traced him to a city in the states by the strew of bodies he'd left in his wake. It had been another six weeks before Buffy was fit to travel. The detox had been difficult but Giles and Dawn had rarely left her side.  
  
Difficult…it had been hell of mammoth proportions.   
  
Buffy shuddered slightly at the painful memories. They had discovered she had been taking the same drug as the witches. Nelly had been replacing her pills. Buffy skittered her mind away from thoughts of Nelly's betrayal. She wanted to remember the love of the woman, not the pain.  
  
The car door opened and Buffy took the hand that appeared in front of her. She was home. Or at least on home soil. This wasn't Sunnydale and Buffy thanked the powers for that. No force in heaven or hell was getting her back there anytime soon. Buffy stared up in awe at the huge house before her.  
  
"You live here?"  
  
Her companion nodded and Buffy raised a brow "Alone?"  
  
Buffy decided that she had probably misinterpreted the fleeting look of guilt that crossed his features. "Not exactly alone. I have…roommates."  
  
Buffy nodded to herself. With a house this big she supposed he needed help keeping up the bills and such. She wondered idly if the Council was paying him to let her stay here. Buffy followed him up the steps and into the foyer of the house.  
  
"Your room is up those steps and to the right, " he said, gesturing with his hand, "The bathroom is the third door on the left."  
  
Buffy grinned. Those were the most words she'd heard him say since he picked her up at the airport an hour ago. "Do you mind if I take a quick nap before we dive into all the council stuff? Jet lag is not my friend."  
  
His response was cut off as a female voice drifted in from a room off to their right. "Toad?"  
  
Buffy raised a brow and pressed her lips together to conceal a smirk. "Toad?"  
  
He blushed slightly and took a sudden and consuming interest in his feet. "It's a nickname," he shrugged.  
  
She smiled and put a comforting hand on his arm. He grinned at the gesture back and motioned towards the sound of the voice. "Do you want to meet some of my roommates?"  
  
Buffy nodded and slipped her arm through his. She really just wanted a shower, a bed and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. In that order. But she supposed two seconds to make nice wasn't going to kill her. As two sets of footsteps made their way closer, Buffy and Toad turned to greet them.  
  
TBC…  
  
(I'd like to say I'm sorry for leaving it there but what would a story be without a few cliffhangers…) 


	5. The first cut is the deepest

****

**San Francisco October 2003**
    
     "Do you want to meet some of my roommates?"

Buffy nodded and slipped her arm through his. She really just wanted a shower, a bed and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. In that order. But she supposed a few seconds to make nice weren't going to kill her. As two sets of footsteps made their way closer, Buffy and Toad turned to greet them.

It took three rapid steps back and a considerable amount of mental cajoling for Buffy to get her voice box working again.

"Spike?"

Buffy twisted her fingers together in a move she belatedly realized was reminiscent of Tara. 

_ No! No Tara thoughts. Or Willow thoughts or Xander thoughts. Those thoughts bad. Just Spike thoughts. No wait! That's bad too. I'm quitting that. But he's here so of course I'm gonna have Spike thoughts and what the hell is he doing here anyway? And why do I care? I don't care. But just in case I do, which I'm so not saying I do, but if I did would it be in a 'gee I missed you' kinda way or in a 'where the hell have you been' kinda way. But isn't that the same thing? Or maybe it's a 'I miss you' in a 'I need to kick someone's ass and yours will do'  way. Whoa, back up a step, Spike's ass leads to really bad thoughts and I'm seriously quitting any thoughts that include Spike's ass and anything to do with his body. Nope no ass thoughts or sexy blue eyes thoughts or tight six back abs thoughts or…_

"Buffy?"

Buffy tore her gaze from the blonde apparition that had stepped out of the living room to stared slack jawed at Toad, who was frantically attempting to get her attention. "Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

_No I'm not okay. That's Spike. Do you have any idea what that means? Of course you don't. No one does, not really. Hell, I don't even know what it means. Is this what a nervous breakdown feels like?_

Buffy took several deep breaths and tried to calm the massive fist twisting away in her gut. "I'm fine."  Turning slowly away from Toad's concerned face she brought her eyes to the man who hadn't spoken or moved an inch since he had entered the room.

_Hi Spike, how are you? Hi Spike, it's been a while. So Spike decided to relocate did you? Spike. Hi. What's new?_

"Spike…What the hell are you doing here?"

_Oh yes, Buffy, you are a smooth one._

"Slayer." 

Buffy blinked twice at the low menacing growl in his voice. 

_Oookay, he must be still pissed. Well you know what Spikey?  That's too damn bad.  I'm the injured party. Mostly. If anyone should be growling here, it's gonna be me. Not that he doesn't have reasons for being pissed but mine are definitely better…I think._

Another growl, this one decidedly feminine,  permeated the air and Buffy forced herself to acknowledge that there was indeed another presence in the room. Shifting her eyes slightly, she caught a flash of long black hair and pale skin before an armful of vampire was pressing her intimately to the floor. And not in the good way. 

 Buffy stared, stunned, at the girl who had tackled her to the ground, seemingly intent on discovering just what color foundation the Slayer used by way of long red cat scratches that were welling up all over Buffy's face. 

Buffy got her arms up and was about to return the facial when a bright spark rendered her momentarily blind and the weight on her body was suddenly dissipated. She remained on her back, propped up by her elbows for leverage, and gaped, dumbfounded, at the sight before her. 

The raven haired vamp was now being straddled herself by yet another vampire. 

_Was there a sale? Three vamps for the price of one? Oh yeah, I'm losing it._

The new one was kinda cute though in that "I'm a jock and can shotgun beer'  way.  Another woman, this one decidedly more human, stood just off to the side blue sparks flashing around her fingers.  It was the way she seemed to be alternating her gaze between the psycho who had attacked her and Spike, that garnered Buffy's attention. She had the exact same pissed off look that Buffy got when Dawn had done something particularly annoying. 

"Spike, so help me god, you had better get your ass over here and control your girlfriend."

Buffy's gaze shot from the finger-sparky girl to Spike. _What the hell has he been telling them about me? I'm nobody's girlfriend. Okay that's just sad. Moving on…_

Buffy shoved herself off the floor. "I'm not his girlfriend."

When no one paid the slightest attention to her Buffy raised her voice a few decibels. "I'm not his-" 

The extensive tirade she was building in her mind was cut off by a sharp snort from Spike. "Not bloody likely. Why don't you be a sport and let her up?  Watching Tash kick the Slayers ass would round out my day nicely."

_Rude much?_

A few previously glossed over facts assimilated themselves in Buffy's brain as her glare flit between Spike and the psycho vampire on the floor. Such as, the fact that Spike had been holding the psychos hand when they entered the room  and continued to do so the entire time she had been staring fell into a calculation she hadn't previously taken the time to add up. 

_Girlfriend? Spike has a girlfriend?… Well good. Don't bother me a bit. Nope I'm fine with that. Better than fine. See watch me be all with the fineness._

Reaching into her pocket, Buffy pulled out a stake and headed across the room, fully intent on rendering the 'good for Spike he has a wonderful, shiny, new relationship' girl, dust. Halfway to her target she was met by an insurmountable wall of flesh in the form of a certain blonde menace. Stopping dead center in front of him, she raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 

His gaze ran slowly, mockingly,  over her body before coming to rest on her face. A small smirk played at his mouth and his eyes held nothing but contempt for the figure he had so thoroughly perused moments before.  "Ah ah, Slayer. Staking someone who can't defend themselves isn't really your style now is it? The Slayer I know and loathe would wait like the pathetically noble creature she is for a fair fight. Or doesn't it work that way anymore? Need to stake em' while their down? Years taken off a bit of your edge? Mind you from where I'm standing they certainly took their toll on your body. Or was that gravity?"

A million things ran through her head at that moment. The things she'd discovered about his past, the questions, the overwhelming urge to just curl up and cry. Unfortunately, her throat seemed to have seized up and she did the only thing she could. 

Cocking an elbow, Buffy punched him squarely in the nose.

"Are you completely brain dead? What in the world possessed you to bring a Slayer into this house? Did it not register in your pea brained little mind who the hell lives here?"

Twin grunts of agreement sounded from the kitchen table where Spike and Ian sat with twin ice packs pressed gingerly to their noses. Ian had been the unfortunate one who had the distinct pleasure of wrestling an irate Buffy off Spike while she pummeled him into the ground. 

"Tasha!" Rain shouted. She had been sitting on the kitchen counter trying to process the exact sequence of events that had led up to the drama in her foyer. Which was getting increasingly difficult with the endless diatribe Tasha was partaking in.

Tasha spun around from her position of having Toad jammed in a corner, to face Rain. Swiftly transferring her glare to the only other human in the room, she propped her balled up fists on her hips. "What?"

"Would you just calm down and-"

"I'm not going to calm down! He's trying to get us all killed!"

A chorus of shivers erupted up the spines of everyone in the room as Tasha's shrill voice reached chalk board scratching levels.

Rain shook her head as if to clear her ears. "Sam is not trying to get us killed. He may have had a small lapse in judgment but I'm sure he's not-"

Yet another snort made it's way out of Spike's nose and he winced slightly at the pain inducing action. "Well if he's not, then I'm going to have to agree that the boy has lost his bloody mind."

A grunt of agreement sounded to his left and Spike nodded at Ian's show of vampire solidarity. Ian tended to cave at crunch time when it came down to keeping Rain happy. At least on this one thing they were all on the same page. The Slayer had to go, no matter what Rain said.

"Would you three just shut up for two seconds so we can figure this out?"

Spike leveled his gaze on Rain. _And here we go…_

"There's nothing to figure out. She's the bloody Slayer. I say we kill her and dump the body."

Spike was momentarily distracted by the malicious gleam on Tasha's face. The look was reminiscent of Dru and he made the increasingly inevitable connection between his princess and Tasha. 

_She's not a replacement. She's not a replacement._

With a certain degree of difficulty he pulled his focus back to Rain, who was pacing the kitchen in agitation.

"We are not killing the Slayer!"

Spike eased back into his chair and propped his feet up on the table. "Fine but don't blame me if your honey here can't service you on account of him being nothing but dusty remains."

Rain slammed her hands down on the table and glared at Spike.

"Would you pull your head out of your ass for two seconds and think. Contrary to popular belief the world does not revolve around you. She's here for a reason and if the Slayer is showing up on our doorstep it must be something big. Something I have no desire to face on my own. If you stop and consider, it's actually an honor to be chosen to help her."

Spike stood quickly, knocking his chair over in the process. Leaning across the space separating them, he brought his face within an inch of Rain's. Despite the tension that reverberated through his body, his voice was a low menacing roll. "I do not help slayers. Get that through your thick little skull. There is no bloody way  I'm gonna sit here and let your little hero worship trip get me killed."

"For your information, I am not on a hero worship anything! Have you forgotten what we do here. If the Slayer needs our help, the friggin CEO of what we do, we are going to help her whether you like it or not."

So intent on their battle of wills neither noticed when Ian stood and calmly righted Spike's chair. Moving forcibly between them, he pulled Rain away from Spike and smiled down at her like a benevolent father. "Rain. Honey." Ian pushed an errant strand of hair off her face and took her hands firmly in his, holding them against his chest.

Spike smirked at the gesture. It was designed to look sweet and humble, when in actuality it was Ian's subtle way of trying to curb Rain from lashing out at him with her magic. 

"She can't stay here. You know we can't trust her. The Slayer's whole purpose in life is to rid the world of us and I for one don't want to wake up with a stake in my chest if she gets a bad case of PMS. I know you want to help, and I love you for that but I can't allow you do this. She's leaving and that is final."

Rain looked at the group assembled, Spike's superior smirk, Tasha's cold, nervous rage, Sam trying to sink into the floor and then back at the love of her life. Her voice dropped a few octaves and her green eyes flashed with fire. "Did you just say, allow me?"

Exactly ten minutes later Spike stalked out of the house with a fuming Tasha in tow. 

"Bloody whipped sod!"

Buffy slammed her suitcase down the bed and ripped open the zipper. Staring blindly at the contents of the overstuffed bag, she brought up a hand and pressed her fingers against her eyes.

_I will not cry._

Tilting her head back, Buffy stared at the ceiling trying to stop the tears that still threatened despite her adamant refusal to let them. With a quick toss of her head, she let her gaze wander aimlessly around the room. It wasn't bad. A big queen size bed done in some nice earth tones with an ornate metal head board sat flush against one wall. A tiny bench was tucked at the end of the bed and a large chest of drawers stood by the door. A huge bay window engulfed the wall across from the bed. Crossing to it, she lifted the heavy midnight blue curtains and peered out. 

_Spike._

She could just make out the glint of his hair as he strode away from the house accompanied by that dark haired psycho. "Tasha," Buffy said, testing the name on her tongue. It was decidedly bitter. Buffy let the curtain drop quickly. A throat cleared behind her and Buffy jumped slightly before she turned. It was the other girl. What was her name? Shower or something? Buffy practically ran back to her suitcase and started pulling items out. She wasn't entirely sure why she felt like she had just been caught. 

"So you're the Slayer?"

Buffy unscrewed the top of her curling iron and upended it to let a stake roll out on the bed. Getting through customs with an arsenal required some creative thinking. Lifting her weapon of choice, Buffy fingered the end and fixed an unwavering gaze on the girl standing in the doorway. 

_I will not be intimidated. I'm the Slayer. I can take anything. Even bleached wonders who felt the need to find  Dru-shaped replacements . _

Without so much as a flick of an eye, the stake was ripped forcibly from her fingers and flung against the wall. Buffy stared at the weapon on the floor and then back to the girl who hadn't moved an inch from the doorway. Buffy nodded slightly at the glow of energy surrounding the girls fingertips.

"So you're a witch?"

The girl slowly crossed the room until she was standing directly in front of Buffy and raised her hand, palm up, in greeting. "Rain."

Buffy stared stupidly at the hand for a moment and then took it in a short, firm shake. Quelling the urge to squeeze as hard as she could. "Buffy."

Both immediately stepped back once their hands were released and eyed each other warily. Rain was the first to break the oppressing silence. "So, do we stand here all night trying to decide who's the bigger bitch or do we just get down to business?"

Buffy's eyebrows shot somewhere up into her hairline and an unwilling grin spread across her face. Symptomatically, her words came out somewhere between a giggle and a cough. "Business. Business would be good."

Rain flopped down on the bed and started to dig through Buffy's suitcase. "What else you got stashed in here?"

Buffy stared for a moment at the sudden change in demeanor. The girl was coming in somewhere between a cross of Faith and Willow on her radar. Lowering herself gingerly to the bed, she sat down on the other side of the bag and began pulling things out, itemizing as she went. Holy water, daggers, more stakes, switch blade, axe just in case. When she was done the bed was covered in enough weapons to keep an army surplus store happy for months. Rain flicked an uninterested eye over the cache and then picked up a backless silver top. "Can I borrow this?"

Buffy fell back on the bed as a fit of giggles engulfed her. Rain raised an eyebrow. "Is that a no?" Buffy just laughed harder. She couldn't remember the last time someone had asked to borrow her clothes. It was so girly, so non-Slayer, so normal.

_God, whatever happened to normal?_

 "Take it," she managed to choke out after a few minutes. " It's yours."

Rain raised an eyebrow in a 'hello crazy woman in my house' look. Buffy pressed a hand on her stomach trying to stop the giggles. "I'm sorry. It's just been so long since…"

Rain looked from the pale, worn girl on the bed, to the weapons, to the suitcase full of clothes. With a sharp nod she stood up. "Business can wait, you need a break. Why don't you get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning."

Buffy stared hard for a moment at her retreating back and then raised a hand. "Wait."

Rain paused in the doorway and turned back with question in her eyes.

Buffy sat up and gestured to the bed, silently asking her to sit. "Where the hell am I? Better yet, who are you people?"

Rain moved back towards the bed, after shoving the suitcase on the floor she sat down and crossed her legs. "We, all of us who live here, are Divinity. Don't laugh, I was into this dictionary phase when I named us. We protect those who can't protect themselves against things most people pretend not to know exist. Or some such sanctimonious crap. Kind of a local chapter of the Slayer."

A small, long forgotten blurb ran through Buffy's mind. Something about we help the hopeless. Buffy rolled her eyes. 

_Guess those powers have to stick their nose in everywhere. Really makes me wonder why they even bother with the whole chosen one thing._

 "You've met pretty much everyone. The big guy whose nose you broke is Ian."  Buffy glanced sheepishly around but Rain dismissed the look with a flick of the wrist. "He can handle a little pain, it was his pride more than anything."

"You do know that you're pretty much surrounded by vampires, don't you? That Ian is a vampire?"

A small mischievous grin formed on Rain's lips. "Wouldn't be nearly as much fun otherwise."

Buffy stared at her for a second before comprehension set in. "Oh. Oh! You mean you and him…"

"Yeah, me and him. He's my husband."

"You married a vampire!"

"Well not technically. Priests and vampires don't exactly mix. He prefers the term mating or some such. I don't really pay attention to all that vampire crap, besides mating makes me think of dogs. But essentially, for all intents and purposes, he's stuck with me until death do us part. Literally."

Buffy wanted to ask what that little comment meant but she figured there were to many other things to discuss at the moment. "What about Ta…the others?"

Rain noticed the slip and filed it away for future contemplation. "Well you met Sam, he's our technical guru. He's not much involved in the actual slaying bit, more of our man behind the scenes. Then there's Sage, but you might not meet her. It all depends on whether what you're here for will involve her or not and apparently you already know Spike."

Buffy flinched at the mention of Spike's name and noted the interest Rain was taking in her reaction. Stiffening her spine, Buffy silently waited for the rest. 

"Which brings me to Tasha. Tasha is Ian's sister, Spike's mate and all around pain in my ass. You are going to have a real fight on your hands if you covet that title of supreme bitch with her around. She's also unfailing loyal to those she loves and most importantly, she's one of mine…"

Buffy didn't miss the warning behind Rain's words. Whatever turmoil abounded in the group, they were tight knit and a threat to one was a threat to all. Nodding slowly, she processed the odd dynamic of the group and forced her brain to latch onto the least wanted but most desperately needed piece of information. "Spike. How did he get involved?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow at the sharp laugh from Rain but held her tongue. 

"We found him trying to terrorize the unsuspecting public into supplying his alcohol habit. Guess he thought I looked like a good mark. He thought wrong."

Buffy smirked. _The more things change.._. "So why's he here? Why didn't you just stake him?"

"Tried that, but he's got some kind of protection spell on his heart. I swear he's got nine lives sometimes. Anyway it's impossible to dust him that way, stake just kinda goes in, then we're all sitting around waiting for the big poof that never happens. Trust me I was shocked as shit when it happened. His ego has swelled to mammoth proportions since. But we decided to keep him around anyway, he does tend to keep conversation lively."

Buffy shook her head slightly at the long tumble of words and tried to decipher the point. "What kind of spell?"

"Not sure exactly. There's a tattoo over his heart with, I think, the Latin word for protect or bind. We haven't been able to decide which and he doesn't really care as long as it does it's job."

"He never was one to get the logistics of a thing."

"You know him pretty well then?"

Buffy caught the slow measuring way Rain said it and was instantly on guard. "Spike? I guess you could say that."

"Funny thing that. I mean you've only seen him a few times and I knowing him it was probably mostly fighting. So that leaves me wondering, how did you get to know him so well?"

Buffy acknowledged the leading questions but her temper flared before she could stop it. "What? A few times? What? Spike's been a consistent pain in my ass for years. Up until six months ago I was tortured with his presence on a daily basis. "

"Well now that's interesting, cause' according to Spike he hasn't seen you in years."

_Years? That lying, conniving son of a bitch. What the hell did I expect though? It's not like blood sucking fiends are known for their honesty._ _Well if he thinks he can just sweep me under the carpet he's got another thing coming. He's going to acknowledge me if it's the last thing I…What the fuck am I saying?_

Taking a deep breath, Buffy folded her hands and said in her most nauseatingly sweet voice, "Tell me then, if he hasn't seen me in years what exactly has he been doing?"

"In a word. Drusilla."

At Buffy's sharp snort of disgust. Rain grinned. "Know her then?"

"Unfortunately. So tell me where, in his delusional little world, was he 'doing' Dru? Cause I can guarantee you it wasn't in Sunnydale."

"Europe. Trying to get a chip out some doctors shoved in his brain. Hey, come to think, you live there, do you know who that was? I'm really getting sick of listening to him whine about it."

"They're gone," Buffy said, in a tone that made known the subject was effectively closed. "So let me get this straight, you're saying he went to Europe, with Dru, to get the chip out? When exactly did this little fantasy trip supposedly happen?"

Judging by the look on her face, and her next statement, Rain was becoming hard-pressed to keep a handle on her temper. "I'm not 'saying' anything. I'm telling you what he told us. A story I have absolutely no reason to disbelieve. As for when, I think it was right after he got the stupid thing."

Buffy forced herself to calm down and lowered the pitch of her voice to placating. "So, how did he get here?'

"To make a long, endless whining and bitching story, short. Dru dumped his ass, little trip to Africa, big drunken mess, long boat ride back to the states."

Buffy sat quietly for a minute trying to process what was happening here. 

_I wanted something to make these feelings stop._

Buffy's jaw dropped and she stared at the girl before her but all she could see in her minds eye was a white bathroom and a vampire pleading for his heart. "You have got to be kidding me."

Rain raised a brow. "What?"

"He did it."

"Did what?"

Buffy stared blindly at her suitcase for a moment. Tears threatening to cloud her vision again. _He erased me. He fucking erased me._

Looking up at Rain, she had trouble hiding the pain, she didn't want to feel, from her eyes. "He-"

"Rain." Both girls looked up sharply at Ian, who was framed in the doorway. "We've got a problem?'

Rain's gaze shifted from the distraught girl to the man in the door. "What is it?"

"With Sanctuary out of business nests seem to be springing up everywhere. We've got a lot of work to do," a pause, then, "Like now."

Rain heaved a sigh. She really wanted to know what was going on between the Slayer and Spike but it was going to have to wait. "Alright I'll be right there." Turning back to Buffy, she took her hand and smiled reassuringly. "Look we'll talk more later. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

Buffy was still mentally rampaging against Spike and the only foolproof cure for a pissed off Slayer was mass destruction, preferably of the dust variety. Standing slowly, the smile she sent Rain was vicious. "Hello? Slayer here."

Rain looked momentarily shocked. The small emotional shell of a girl was gone and in her place stood a confident determined woman. Ignoring the glare burning into her back and the subsequent growl from the doorway, Rain held a stake out to Buffy. "Did you want to come with us?"

Buffy simply started strapping stakes on her body in answer. Rain stood and shot her own glare at Ian. "I'll just go page Spike and Tasha."

"Yeah you do that. Page Spike. We a lot to catch up on…Wait a second. Spike has a pager?"

Spike strolled nonchalantly towards  Ian and Rain, who were standing quietly staring into the huge windows of an abandoned warehouse. He was still unbelievably pissed and the rather large amount of alcohol he'd consumed since leaving the house was just adding fuel to the fire. There was no bloody way in hell he was running because the little witch beckoned. No not him, he was walking…slowly when she beckoned. 

_Sometimes I wonder who's the whipped one around here._

Stopping a few feet away he waited for their acknowledgment before he could have the pleasure of treating them to withering glares and smart-ass remarks. And waited. And waited. 

Patience. Not his virtue. 

"So is this the new plan then. Wait for the evil nasties to file out in an orderly fashion and fall on the stakes. Bloody brilliant that, don't know why I didn't think of it."

Both turned simultaneously towards him and Spike's eyebrow hitched up at the stunned expression on their faces. There wasn't much in this world capable of rendering these two mute, Rain especially.

"What's wrong with you two?," Spike muttered as he ventured closer to the window.

At first all he could see was a thick encompassing fog. It took a moment to comprehend that it wasn't actually fog but rather a substantial layer of dust polluting the air. Narrowing his eyes, he dimly picked out a blur of movement in the shape of what appeared to be ten separate bodies. 

"We tried to stop her but…"

Spike glanced at Rain who seemed unable to finish her sentence. "Stop who? Tinkerbell in one of her destructo modes again? Why stop her?  Makes less work for us this way."

"No…," Rain said slowly, "That's not Sage."

Spike stared uncomprehendingly at Rain, then snapped his eyes back to the window so quickly his neck threatened whiplash. "No. It can't be. There has to be at least ten in there with her."

"There 'was' twenty."

Spike tried for cool nonchalance and failed miserably. "How the hell did she do that?"

"Don't know exactly it was all kind of a blur. She seemed really pissed about something though. Yelling stuff about arrogant assholes and spells and 'who in the hell does he think he is', all the way over here. She wasn't making much sense."

_Stands to reason, _he supposed. _Slayers always were a few screws short, especially that one. You had to be somewhat unbalanced to fall for your mortal enemy. What kinda nut job does that?_

"Not that I care, but why aren't you helping her."

Rain shrugged slightly, still unable to tear her eyes away. "We tried. Just ended up standing there with nothing to do so we came out here to get away from the dust. Oh look it's starting to clear."

Spike felt his jaw hit his chest at what he was witnessing but didn't have the faculties to stop himself. Buffy was in the center of the room with the five remaining vampires. She had a deadly smile on her face and if his lip reading skills were accurate she was calling them all on at once. 

_ Oh please, they're not gonna fall for that old trick._

To Spike's disgust, they all rushed at her simultaneously. Just as they reached the center, Buffy executed a perfect back flip over their heads, causing the rushing vamps to crash into each other. Buffy stood safely a few feet away, hands on her hips and  a 'god you guys are stupid' expression. 

_Who in the bloody hell is making these stupid wankers?_

Spike realized, much to his personal embarrassment, that he had his hands and nose pressed against the glass. He was about to move back when Buffy spun a kick at the nearest vampire and he was lost in the fight again.

_Perfect._

No, not perfect, he berated himself,  just better than he remembered. Whatever she had been doing that took away the bouncy little golden girl he remembered  sure as hell hadn't affected her fighting style. 

_Bouncy little golden…What the hell is wrong with me? She's the Slayer, remember? Evil nasty bitch screwing up your life? Bloody soddin buggering dreams. _

Spike suddenly smacked his hand on the window as his focus was pulled back to the tiny girl beyond the glass. Buffy was down to her last opponent and the move she was using was extremely effective. He should know, it was one of the many in his repertoire. Spike turned away to tell the others that the all-mighty Slayer was stealing his moves, but they weren't even remotely paying attention. Before he could raise, what was going to be a considerable amount of bitching, Buffy strolled calmly outside, wiping dust off her coat. At the astonished looks from the assembled gawkers she glanced back at the building and then at them. "What?"

Rain was the first to move, walking forward quickly and grabbing Buffy's arm to drag her off down the street. "Exactly how bad is this thing you're chasing?"

The other three followed from a discreet distance. Or if truth be told, a safe distance. 

Spike glanced at Tasha and Ian from his place between them. Ian was the first to speak. "Can I just say how glad I am that she's not actively trying to kill us."

Tasha snorted "She's not that good. Those were probably fledglings. I could have done that."

Spike smirked. _Sure you could Tash. Got a bridge you might be interested in buying too._

Spike trained his gaze on the Slayers back. This was not good. There was another little nugget of information his mind had conveniently forgot. Shifting his jeans, Spike fought for control over his errant body. 

_Bloody bitch always did get me like this. No wonder Dru was always complaining. Not that she should have, some of the best shags we had was after a tussle with the Slayer…Ungrateful bint. _

 Spike watched the subtle sway of the Slayer's ass under the cover of her coat and began to create a game plan for the  positions he was going to get Tasha in when they got back home. 

_Might be some benefits to having the chit around yet._

All pleasant thoughts were forcibly wiped from his mind as his gaze focused on the material of the coat rather than the wearer. Spike blinked twice and roamed his eyes over the leather clad figure again.

"Hey! That bitch has my bleedin coat!"

**TBC**


	6. Emotions in Time

A/N: Okay folks, I am so sorry for the delay here. But trust me when I say I have spent many…many hours banging my head against the keyboard over this chapter. But whoohoo it's finally done. I really have to thank all you guys who continued to give me feedback even though this hasn't been updated in so long. You didn't forget me! I also have some news. Due to the mass amount of email I have received asking for updates I actually felt the need to make an update list. When I first started writing it was entirely beyond the scope of my imagination that enough people would read my stuff to comment much less want updates. So yah! If you want to get on the list send me an email and I will happily add you. Just a few more notes then I promise I will shut up. Cynthia, wherever you are, thanks so much for the numerous emails they meant the world to me. Happy Birthday to Heller for the eighth! Trisha, my heart and my prayers are with you. Now on with the show…

**Chapter five-Emotions in Time**

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"Hey! That bitch has my bleedin coat!"

Buffy froze as the words sailed through the night towards her. She slowed to a stop and turned cautiously to face the vampire stalking towards her with murder in his eyes. Buffy was utterly transfixed, unable to tear her gaze away, he reminded her of a panther descending on his prey. She could feel Rain stepping between them as he closed in and could almost sense the silent questions bouncing off her from all directions. 

Buffy recognized that she was a creature of habit, completely in tune with her body and abilities, the job to be performed. In fact, slaying was and had been done on auto-pilot for the better part of two years now. Every movement and task was precision from the details of the slay to wardrobe choices. 

_Two seconds. Christ why couldn't you have looked in a god damn mirror. Two seconds. Stupid. _

Buffy glanced up at the night sky, as if seeking answers to eternal questions in its black depths.  Deep thought provoking inquiries, such as how to explain to a rampaging vampire that you just happened to come across his trophy and had taken to wearing it religiously. Her eyes darted from star to star, searching for a solution…for salvation. The stars winked back in some kind of cosmic Morse code, as if all it would take was a little deciphering and she'd know exactly what to do, what to say.

_Well then…I'm pretty much screwed. _

Buffy stiffened her body, every muscle tensing for an attack as she brought her eyes down. Spike stood inches away, his entire body vibrating with barely suppressed fury. She opened her mouth once…twice, but whatever profound and well thought out excuse she hoped for was lost to the monumental celestial glitch that had gotten her into this situation in the first place. She could feel his eyes traveling the length of her, caressing her, and vaguely lamented the times when the heat of his gaze would be trying to see under her clothes not the actual material her body wore. 

In another time, another place she would have reacted differently.  Probably. It was automatic and with less than her usual dignity. Spike brought his hand up, just his fingers really, to touch. As if to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Buffy watched his fingers coming closer, long, elegant, cool, white fingers. Like a cold, stark, white bathroom. She flinched. It was a barley perceptible muscle spasm. If you hadn't been watching closely you never would have seen it. Unfortunately, Spike saw and reacted accordingly.

"Don't tax yourself, Slayer. It's not you I want."

Buffy flinched again, this time from the white hot, and completely unexpected, bolt of pain that infused her system from the inside out. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him so bad she was practically salivating. In those few seconds she had never in her life wanted to cause someone emotional and bodily harm so deeply in her life. After everything they had been through together, and yes, meant to each other, he should never get to look at her with such dislike and disdain. Ever. It was his choice of words that warranted it and it was his choice of words that stopped her. For one brief, tarnished, moment she saw it. The dark and desperate emotion gripped her that he must have felt…that night. That moment and that moment alone, kept her silence.

"What do you want Spike?"

"From you Slayer? Not a bloody thing. I thought you had something of mine but I should have known you were too lily white to ever let anything less than pure touch your precious self."

She wanted to give him the coat back. She wanted to tear it off her body and throw it in his face. Along with the knowledge that quite a bit more than just his coat had touched her body. She wanted to see the look on his face, see maybe if he would react with the same amount of horror and disgust she had when all this mess had begun. 

Neither of them could move it seemed, both caught in an internal struggle to stare the other down first. As if it meant something… as if it meant everything. 

A slight throat clearing and uncomfortable foot shuffles were heard from close by, but not acknowledged within the inner circle they had created. A circle created of animosity and for the sole purpose of seeing who would break first.  It was entirely possible they could have stood there well into the night, two bodies rigid with determination not to break before the other. Not giving an inch, a battle if questioned later, neither could honestly explain what it was about. If it hadn't been for the untimely arrival of horde of misguided demons they might have never moved again.

Rain upended an old cardboard box, dusted it slightly and then perched on its edge. Digging through her coat pockets she retrieved her cigarettes. Once lit, she started to blow intricate smoke circles into the air. Peering through a rather impressive ring, she grinned at Ian as he came stomping across the alley towards her. "Pull up a stump.," she chirped,  motioning to the wide array of boxes crowding the alley. She was starting to view this little piece of concrete as her second home. It seemed they were doomed to stay here forever. 

Ignoring her gesture, Ian towered over her glaringly condescending. "What are you doing? Did you miss the whole big battle thing we've got going on over here?"

Rain returned his look with own of her own. A look that clearly said 'I am not four and would love for you to remember that fact'. Dropping her cigarette, she focused her gaze on the scene unfolding behind him. "Nope, caught that. Did you miss the fact that we are utterly and completely useless at the moment?"

"What?" Ian sputtered obviously not liking the innuendo that he was inadequate in some way. 

"Oh stow your ego and sit down…please."

Ian settled himself gingerly on the ground beside her. Growling distastefully at having to lower his precious ass onto a less than  sterile surface. Rain smirked slightly at his delicate sniff. He was so anal sometimes.

"Fine. See. Sitting. Care to explain, why we're on a smoke break."

"Look at them," she said gesturing to the couple in the middle of the alley.

"Look at who?" Ian questioned, with quite a bit of confusion tingeing his voice. There were at least thirty beings in the alley and he was expected to pick out individuals?

Rain grabbed his chin and focused his gaze on the two warriors in the middle of the battle. And warriors was what he watched. Buffy and Spike were something akin to deadly poetry in motion. A level of skill and accuracy that Rain and Ian, for all their love and respect of each other, could never hope to achieve. 

"Oh…" Ian breathed the word out on one long slip of breath.

Rain grinned at the look of awe on his face. Then pulled herself back to the problem at hand. "Tell me something," she said casually.

"Hmm?"

"Enemies," she stressed, "don't fight like that together. The fluidity of those movements doesn't come from hate. It comes from passion and a knowledge of each other on a deeply personal level. So I'm thinking that that only leaves one conclusion..."

"What do you mean?"

"One…or both of them are lying to us."

"Come on don't you think you're making to much of this. She's a Slayer.  He's a vampire. They're natural enemies. It's only logical, if given the right situation, they'd fight well together. They're bound to have the same instincts is all."

"Are you blind? That's not instinct. That's…something else."

The two blondes stood motionless in the middle of the pack. Their backs were to each other and not a single look or signal passed between them.  Without warning, they simultaneously ducked sideways, one to the left, one to the right. The two attackers, that had been approaching, met in the middle knocking each other out with neither Buffy or Spike exchanging a single blow. 

"You can't fake that Ian. It's not just there. It's practiced through many battles. "

 Buffy suddenly took two steps to the right and in a blur of motion barley susceptible to the human eye, spun on her heel and stood facing forward just off to Spike's side.  Rain and Ian watched in awe as Spike raised his left arm to shove a stake into his opponents heart as Buffy ducked under the upraised limb and brought her stake home into the other vampire who thought to attack with his friend. 

Rain grabbed Ian's sleeve pointing like a kid a circus. "Did you know he was left-handed?" Ian shook his head and laced his fingers with hers.

Buffy and Spike stood facing each other, their eyes locked in some kind of silent conversation that no one else could possibly intrude on. As one being each bent slightly to opposite sides, eyes never losing contact, each raised a hand and embedded their weapons into the enemies attacking over the others shoulders at precisely the same instant. There was only one vamp left of the thirty that had attacked. 

"You think they'd stop for a second so I can go grab some popcorn?"

Rain grinned at Ian. "Next time, babe. It's almost over."

Spike dropped to a crouch and Buffy vaulted off his shoulder and  over his head, delivering a kick to the chest of the last threat behind them. Coming up from her roll, in time for Spike to toss his stake, with unerring accuracy into, the remaining vamps chest.  

Ian and Rain both stood slowly each fighting the almost irresistible urge to applaud. Linking hands, they strolled leisurely towards the combatants who once again stood motionless, staring at each other. 

Buffy slowly let her stake drop to the ground. She had no idea what to say next and was saved the trouble as Tasha rushed towards them.

"Spike? Baby? Are you okay?"

For the first time in what felt like forever, Spike's gaze shifted away from Buffy and she felt like she was suddenly standing on an stark arctic plain after enjoying the bright warming sun of a meadow. Buffy dropped her eyes to her toes and wrapped her arms around her waist. 

"Look out!"

Buffy's focus shot back up in time to see a vampire she'd previously thought dust rising up behind Spike. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The arc of the stake as it descended into Spike's back. Ian looming up behind them and the consequential burst of dust as he killed the attacker. She could only watch helplessly as Spike dropped slowly forward, her name falling from his lips.

Spike watched Buffy through half closed eyes. The lights of the kitchen were near blinding but it was nothing compared to the pain radiating through his chest or the confusion tearing through his mind. He had a dim memory of being in the painfully embarrassing position of getting carried back to the manor slung over Ian's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Thankfully, that portion was rather hazy. Most of what he could recall was the fact he had been physically unable to take his eyes off the Slayer for the entire ten blocks. Tasha had been directly behind them, hands grasping, eyes crying, but it was the Slayer he had been riveted to. She always seemed to be fluttering just off to the side of his vision, like somehow she knew that he needed to see her. 

Spike lurched his head as if to forcibly fling the thought away and succeeded in sending a bolt of mind numbing pain through his body. He groaned silently as his brain veered off the Slayer and onto the plank of wood taking up residence in his back. _Well that's one way to go about it._

Tasha was running her hands over him poking and prodding at the wood in an extremely warped interpretation of Florence Nightingale. She stepped into his line of vision, blocking Buffy, which finally caused Spike to turn his eyes towards her. 

"You mind? I'd like this stake out before you do succeed in killing me."

Spike winced slightly at the wounded look on Tasha's face. But Rain saved him before he could stumble through and apology he only half meant. 

"Tasha go get the big kit out of the bathroom."__

Tasha nodded slightly and stood slowly her fingers seeking and finding her brothers for some much needed support. Spike squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head onto the kitchen table. He had no idea what he was doing anymore. Sniping at Tasha, staring at the Slayer like a love sick puppy. Not to mention the fighting…

_Bloody hell, I'm turning into the poof. Just watch. There'll be no more Spike, soon they'll be calling me 'touched by an Angel'._

There was just no conceivable reason they should have fought like that. He couldn't figure how or why and what's more his mind rebelled at the idea of figuring it out. They were enemies, they hated each other. Vampire. Slayer. Never the two shall meet… except in mutual hatred and the desire to see the other dead. So why did she look so devastated that he was hurt? Did someone need to explain the rules to her? Maybe he'd draw her a diagram or something. While he was at it he'd make a copy for himself. An eternal reminder that the pain and horror reflected in her eyes wasn't supposed to somehow seem more painful than the actual injury.  

Spike opened his eyes and fell into the Slayer's. She looked so small, standing there huddled in the corner, not really belonging here. Not really belonging anywhere.  What had happened to her? He suddenly, very badly, wanted to fix whatever had caused her to look so lost. He wanted to gather her up in his arms, stroke her hair and chase away her demons. 

_I'm starting to sound as psychotic as her. Must be contagious._  

Spike jumped slightly as a hand touched his arm. He had to blink a few times to clear his vision and acknowledge Rain beside him. She was watching him with something that looked suspiciously like pity. Cold, hard rage washed through his system. He refused to let a little slip of a girl mess with his mind like this. Whatever the Slayer's game was he wanted no part of it. Hardening his face and closing down the emotion in his eyes, he once again faced his nemesis. An insulting smirk graced his lips. 

"Sorry to disappoint, Slayer, but I think I'm going to live." Spike's smirk grew malicious as her eyes widened and pain radiated out of them. He flicked his fingers at her like he was waving away a bothersome fly. "Go on then, take you're little vigil elsewhere."

Rain's grip on his arm tightened even as she turned her face from Spike to Buffy. "Can you go somewhere else, Buffy, anywhere that isn't here right now?"

With a slight mumble of agreement, Buffy shuffled out the door. As much as he didn't want to, Spike watched her every movement as she left and almost groaned aloud at the twinge he felt in his heart. 

_Not her. It's the soddin' piece of wood in your body making you a bit twitchy. Not her. Never her. _  

"Ow!"

Spike glared at Rain as she took advantage of his distraction and gave a swift yank at the stake.  

"Don't be such a baby. Or would you rather I leave the two by four in your chest. Could do, you know, if anyone could pull off this fashion statement it's you."

"You know you can be a real bitch when you want to."

"I'm letting that go because obviously you aren't in your right mind."

Spike gritted his teeth as she pulled and pushed at his chest trying to work the stake out. "This isn't working, there's just not enough to grab a hold of this way. It's going to have to come out the back."

"But…" For some reason he couldn't fathom, Spike was scared to death of removing his shirt. Tasha's superstition run rampant through his mind and he had a deep-seated dread that somehow, this one time, it was going to come horrifically true. 

"Look either I take off your shirt or we use you as a coat rack from now on."

"Ha bloody ha." 

Spike clenched his jaw and stared at the wall above Rain's head as she began to undo the buttons holding his shirt on his body.   

"About what happened..."

Spike's sigh was unnaturally loud in the room. "Yeah."

"You and Buffy were-"

He shook his head. Not now. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Spike"

"Just leave it alone, Rain…please."

Rain pursed her lips and nodded, but the look in her eyes said, in no uncertain terms, that she'd only keep silent for now. "Okay…Ready?" 

Spike stared deeply into her compassionate green eyes and nodded. A slight smile of encouragement alighted on her lips.  "Turn around."

Spike twisted his upper body so that he was lying half across the table facing the open doorway. The sound of Rain's audible gasp as she viewed his back was enough to make him jump. "Is it that bad?"

He heard a slight choking noise that he realized was Rain trying to swallow. "No-"

Spike tried to crane his neck around to see how much damage had been done but another voice had him swinging his gaze back to the front. 

"I'm sure it will be fine. Won't it Rain?"

Spike forced himself to smile at Tasha who was standing silhouetted in the kitchen door. He pushed hard at the treacherous wish that it had been Buffy instead.  

Rain stared dumbfounded at Spike's back, then slowly raised her gaze to her sister in law. She watched as Tasha entered the room and spread the medical supplies out on the table. She pulled a chair beside Spike and took his hands in her own. Not once did her gaze stray from Rain. 

"You gonna stand there admiring my physique all bloody day, woman?"

Rain shook her head, trying to clear it, and forced her focus onto the protruding wood rather than the skin surrounding it. Gritting her teeth, she gave a swift, hard yank and was rewarded with a sickening pop as it tore free of bone and muscle. Reaching for a handful of gauze and antiseptic, she began cleaning the remaining blood from the open wound. Her eyes clashed violently with Tasha's even as she spoke reassuringly with Spike. "Just a few stitches and you should be as good as new."

As she sewed, she watched with a growing sense of disgust as Tasha brushed her fingers through Spike's hair murmuring words of comfort, encouragement and love.

Taping down the last of the bandages, Rain stood and started to toss the supplies back into the kit. "Okay, you should probably rest now."

Spike got slowly to his feet as the events of the past few hours began to take their toll on his body. Tasha stood too and slid her arm around Spike's waist, nodding at Rain. "I'll just-"

"Help me clean up. Spike's a big boy, he can remember the way to his room."

Spike wandered, somewhat dazed, towards the door. Stopping briefly to bestow a light kiss on both women, completely oblivious to the tension in the room. 

The two women watched his progress until he disappeared around the corner and out of sight. Tasha picked up a used piece of gauze and tossed it haphazardly towards the garbage pail. "You know he shouldn't be-"

"Sit the fuck down, Tasha."

For a moment Rain though she was going to argue but then Tasha plopped down onto a waiting chair like a petulant child. "Rain, I-"

Rain waved her hand in front of her face in a short jerky motion, effectively cutting off any lame excuse Tasha was about to utter. "Don't even begin to pull this shit with me, I've known you too long. What the hell were you thinking? You can't just hide something like this and hope it goes away."

"I wasn't…I…"

"I..I…nothing. That whole lame ass superstition was nothing but a load of crap. You were trying to hide this and just hoping you wouldn't get caught. Well too bad, Tash, you're busted. Now you're going to march your ass up those stairs and tell him exactly what you've done."

"No."

Rain was having a severe amount of difficulty not sending numerous bolts of energy right through Tasha. Tucking her arms around her middle, Rain took and deep breath and let her words out in a gush of air. "Excuse me."

Completely oblivious to the rather precarious position she was in, Tasha stood and planted her hands on the table. Her beautiful face fixed itself into a less than becoming sneer. "Hearing giving out in your old age? I said no. This is none of your business, Rain. Leave it alone."

Rain crossed the space between them in two steps and met Tasha's glare with one of her own. "Everyone and everything that happens in this house is very much my business and the fact is he has a right to know what's been done to him."

"Maybe it was done **for** him not **to** him."

"What the fuck are you talking about!"

"The spell or whatever it is, has to be pretty powerful to be personalized like that. There must have been a reason." 

"I'm sure there was, which is all the more reason for you to tell him. We need to find out who or what did that to him and more importantly, why."

"Would you just stop and think for a second. It's on his back, a place that no vampire could conceivably see it. I don't think he's supposed to know it's there."

"You're so full of shit."

"Why can't you just leave it alone. Is it your singular goal in this world to ruin everyone's life."

"What? I…"

"No. I swear you have some kind of sick need to be the only one happy. Leave well enough alone Rain, you already stole my brother from me. Leave my man alone."

"I am not trying to, nor have I ever, taken any men away from you."

"Well I guess that's all a matter of opinion. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make sure Spike made it his room okay." Tasha paused at the door, fire burning in her eyes. "I mean it Rain, for once, keep you nose out of it. This is not an issue, if you don't make it one."

Spike leaned his forehead against a soothing panel of dark wood. His mind was swimming and he realized that Rain must have slipped him some painkillers when he wasn't looking.  Closing his eyes, he splayed his fingers against the door and inadvertently opened his mind to the sounds and movements of the person on the other side. Someone was crying, a female someone. These weren't quiet, dainty tears though, they were deep, painful, gut wrenching sobs. Sighing slightly, Spike pressed his lips to the door and whispered her name. "Buffy." A slight noise on the steps alerted him to a new presence and Spike pushed himself quickly upright. Hurrying down the hall, he made it safely to his room seconds before Tasha rounded the corner.

"Adstringo… Adstringo…."

Rain quietly muttered to herself as the computer in her office slowly blinked to life. There was something not quite right here and she was determined to know what. Rain typed in the word etched in Spikes chest and waited for the search to complete. 

"Adstringo…Latin, figures. Translates to…bind."

Rain sat back from the screen and stared at the definition for a few minutes. 

"So it's not a protection spell, but how does the rest fit in?" 

Rain began scrolling through various websites typing the word in search engines again and again. There were hundreds of spells using the word and hundreds using tattoos but none mentioned a third marking. Finally when her eyes were beginning to cross, she came across an obscure site that she'd never see before.

"Emotions in time…what's this?"

Rain rubbed at her eyes, Rain cracked her neck and began to read. With every word, the fatigue left her body and by the time she was done energy was zinging along her veins.

"A rare spell once thought lost. Blah blah. Few cases, blah blah blah. Literally indestructible, hmmm.  Most powerful binding spell…" Rain stared at the screen. "Okay, tell me something I couldn't figure out on my own." Rain scrolled through pages and pages of text mostly involving how the spell was translated, who had discovered it, nothing overly relevant. On the last page, she found the information she wanted.

Emotion in Time

When coupled with a name or symbol, relevant with an individual, this spell is used to bind emotion in time. When used in the cases of the heart, this spell serves a dual purpose. Not only does it bind the emotion so that love may prove eternal, it also prevents the individual from loving any other in the same way. This spell was often times used in the place of wedding ceremonies as it is ultimately indestructible. Most will wear the marks, most commonly known as tattoos, above and behind the heart as an added symbol of their devotion. This act also succeeds, by the very nature of the spell itself, to render the heart impervious to harm.

Rain sat back in the chair, her jaw dropping. "Undustable," she breathed. 

She stared at the screen trying to process what she was reading. Spike's tattoo once again flashed across her mind, but this time she concentrated on the one she'd seen on his back. It was done exactly the same as the one on his chest, with the same writing and green vine running through the letters. But this one had a name etched, almost defiantly, into the skin. Buffy Anne Summers.

"Holy shit! He wasn't protecting himself from her. He was marrying her!"

Rain jumped to her feet, knocking the chair to the floor.

"Ian!" She screamed up the stairs, as she gathered her coat and purse. " Get Buffy! We're going for a drink!"

"So he just…left?"

Buffy glanced from Rain to Ian and back. So far they had questioned her on almost every aspect of her life while plying her with alcohol. They had just moved onto the dismal failure of her romantic life. Buffy glanced around at the crowded bar and then scrunched up her nose as the latest shot of tequila burned a path down to her stomach. "Mmhmm," she nodded at Rain's incredulous look. "Big swirl of helicopter blades, bye bye Riley, and stupid me standing there yelling at him to come back. I suppose it could have looked romantic. Personally, I'm leaning more towards pathetic."

"Well that's just…sad. I mean it was his obviously his fault, what with those skeezy vamp whores and-"

"Hey!" Ian took that moment to assert his prerequisite, male superiority, indignation or vampire superiority indignation. Whichever it was, he was asserting it. "How do you know she didn't drive him to it. Maybe she wasn't giving him what he needed and-"

"So you're saying if I'm a little tired one night you're just gonna go off and find the first slut who-"

"Look jello shooters!" Buffy squeaked desperately. "Alcohol in nummy jiggly fruit flavors, always of the good."

 Shooting Ian a glare that promised future retribution, Rain turned back to Buffy and reached over to grab her hand. "So that was the great love of your life," she cooed sympathetically. 

Buffy snorted causing jello to go up her nose in a most painful way. "Oh, hell no!"

Buffy blinked at the empty shooter cups stacked in front of her. It had taken four regular tequila shots to tell the story of Riley. Ten jello shots to tell the tale of Angel…so far. Digging the last bits of orange jelly out of her cup, Buffy silently amended her total to eleven and continued her story.  

"So there I was, school saved, apocalypse averted, fire trucks…firing and he goes off all Mr. Swirly coat and where am I? You guessed it standing there looking stupid." Buffy waved her hand in front of her trying to encompass both Rain and Ian in her next question. "Are you detecting a pattern here?"

"Yeah," Ian sneered, still sore over his previous argument with rain. "You have lousy taste in men."

"Ian!"

"No, s'okay," Buffy said, patting Rain's hand. "He's right. I've got terminal taste."

"That's not true, there had to be **one** good one."

Buffy stared at the empty tray that once held shooters. "You know what's truly pathetic. I think Spike **was** the good one." Buffy completely missed the look that passed between Ian and Rain. The one that said 'now we're getting somewhere'.

"Spike?," Rain toned casually, "What about Spike?"

Ignoring the question, more than the girl, Buffy searched for the shooter waitress. 

_Maybe if I get an even fifty shots for this…I can always order more_. 

"You rang?"

_Oh crap…_

Buffy watched through slightly less than focused eyes as Spike and Tasha squeezed around the table.

"I'm just going to…" Buffy made it half way to a standing position before the room tilted at an unnatural angle and she was forced to sit back down. The effects of the shooters slamming her back in the chair like a punch to the groin.

"And there lies the fate of the world, folks, all safe and sound in the hands of lush. What's a matter Slayer, can't hold your drink."

Buffy glared into the sanctimonious smirk Spike sent her way. "Like you're one to talk. How was the old sobriety level when you decided to drive cross country for a love spell, Spikey? Or should I say 'Love's bitch'?"

_That did the trick_, she mused. Spike's eyes turned glacial as he glared at her. "At least I could keep someone satisfied for well over a hundred years. What's your record, Slayer? Last I saw you had a bit of difficulty holding onto them the morning after."

Buffy lifted her glass in a silent salute. Spike sat back with all the confidence of someone who'd won the war, he really should have known that it was never that easy. Buffy leaned forward on her elbows and smiled sweetly in a semblance of defeat. "So Spike, how's that whole neutered thing working out for ya."

A muscle began to tick in his jaw as Spike lifted his drink to his lips. Only to spit it out in disgust as he encountered lime jello rather than the bourbon he had been expecting. Wiping his tongue on a napkin, Spike cringed at the loud burst of laughter from the Slayer's section of the table. Turning towards Ian, his face grew shrewd and a tad bit contemplative. "Did I ever tell you about the two Slayers I killed."

"Oh please, not this again. Really Spike, reliving old moments of glory, you can't even begin to imagine having again? It's a little pathetic, don't you think?"

"Not that you would understand the concept Slayer, but those us of with a life expectancy beyond thirty sometimes feel the need to reminisce about the good times we've had. Which leaves me trying to suss out what chafes your ass more, your dismal lack of quality moments or the rather limited shelf life you've got."

Buffy snapped her mouth shut with an audible click and slumped back in the chair. Revenge was a meal best served cold.

Buffy put the last crease in the fairly elaborate duck she was making out of the napkins on the table. She had been listening with half an ear for over an hour to Spike's tales of glory. 

_Or is that gore? Whatever. It's never going to end. He hasn't even made it to New York yet._

"I could have danced all night with that one."

So engrossed on her origami, it took a moment for Buffy to realize that the sound of rather loud indelicate snort was actually coming from her. Popping her head up at the sudden silence, Buffy glanced around at the eyes all trained on her.

"Something to add?," Spike asked, dryly.

""What? No, no, go right ahead. Pretend I'm not here." 

"I'd love to."

Buffy's shoulders stiffened and she decided it was time to rejoin the fun. Leaning towards Rain, she whispered in a voice loud enough to fill grand halls. "I hope he does the pool stick twirly thing. It's really the best part of the show."

Silence reigned once again as everyone, including Spike, raised questioning brows at her. 

Buffy suddenly clapped her hands together as a new idea occurred to her. "You missed something!"

Spike watched the Slayer like she'd just told him the moon was indeed made of cheese. "What?"

"The death wish and the one good day part. Come on you've got to do the one good day part or there's no point to the story."

"You know they've got places for your kind, Slayer. Cozy little rooms with lovely white coats that do up in the back."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Just stand up and I'll show you."

Spike got to his feet, caution echoing from ever movement. Buffy slipped out from her place at the table and moved in front of him. She grinned up at him like a cat who was about to get the cream. 'What's the matter, Spikey? Scared?"

"Oh you? Hardly." But the slight tremor in his voice belied the foreboding in him.

Buffy suddenly shoved him back against a wall and put her hands on either side of his face, effectively blocking every escape route. She slowly ran her tongue over her mouth and couldn't help the almost childish spurt of glee she felt when his gaze became riveted to the play of tongue on lips.  In a voice that was part seduction, part warning, Buffy began.

"Death is on your heels, baby, and sooner or later, it's going to catch you. Some part of you wants it. Not only to stop the fear and the uncertainty-" Buffy moved impossibly closer so that her mouth almost touched his, "but because you're just a little bit in love with it." Buffy drew her gaze up from his lips to his eyes. "Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp, that look of peace. Part of you is desperate to know...What's it like? That's a warrior's question. A warrior's curiosity." Buffy took a slow measured step back never letting him free of her eyes. "Sooner or later, you're gonna want it and the second-" Buffy suddenly brought her hands up in front of his face, clapping them together with a loud bang. "the second, that happens, I pray to God I'm there. I'll slip in-" Buffy stepped closer so that the air from her words brushed against his lips. "have myself. A. Real. Good. Day." 

Buffy stared into Spike's eyes. He was crammed tight against the wall like he would dearly love to sink through it. "Slayer…" It came out like a plea and a demand all at once.

"Yeah, Spike?"

"Outside."

Buffy stared at him in confusion. "Huh?"

Spike forced himself away from the wall, grabbing her arm in a vice lock. " Outside… Now!"  

Buffy ripped her arm out of his grip and then stumbled a bit as her momentum and the remaining effects of the alcohol played havoc with her equilibrium. Tossing her face up to the stars, Buffy took deep, gulping breaths of the cool night air and tried to clear her head. 

"What was it exactly Slayer, blunt head trauma or did they mess up your meds. Not that I really care but it'd be a damn shame not to know what makes a Slayer certifiable. Cause let me tell you that is the only conclusion I can fathom as to why you've completely lost the bloody plot!" 

Buffy brought her gaze back from the heavens and focused on Spike. "Did you know your going all 'grr' right now."

"At the risk of letting you drive me further round the bend…what, pray tell, are you blatherin on about now?" 

"You know, with the yellowy eyes and the…" Buffy raised her hands to her mouth and pointed her index fingers downward to symbolize fangs.

Buffy watched with an almost comical detachment as the muscle in Spike's jaw began to tic. His hands were clenching and unclenching at such a rate it was obvious he wanted nothing more in that moment than to rip her head clean off her shoulders.

A million thoughts flitted through her mind as she stood there watching him. Plans and ideas that would safely remove Spike from her life once and for all. No more pain, no more selfish indulgence, no more fear, no more love…no more…well…Spike. Buffy opened her mouth to spin a clever lie, but all that emerged was a small choking noise caught deep in her chest and she resisted the urge to cringe at her own inability to end this. She'd forgotten what it was like to have him look at her like that. Spike had two modes, it was either utter and complete devotion that was imbued into every fiber of his being or he despised you with an equal intensity. The pure, unadulterated hatred flashing out at her from those deep blue orbs had the power to bring her to her knees. They say that there are times that define your life. Seconds really, where one small decision will turn you from one path onto another.  For Buffy Summers, the road had irrevocably forked. There was no turning back. 

"What exactly is pissing you off more here, Spike. The fact that I know things about you that I shouldn't or the fact that I messed up storytelling hour."

Buffy watched with more than a bit of interest as Spike's pale face seemed to turn an unbecoming shade of purple. It took all her strength not to take that minuscule step back her body was so desperately craving. Instead, she dug deep crescents in her palms with sharp little fingernails and began a small countdown in her mind as to when this initial shock would pass and Spike would explode. She got to twenty.

"I am not one of your lackeys or one of your toys, Slayer. You do not now, or ever, get to presume you know a bleedin thing about me. The only reason you're still here is because Rain has some misguided notion that you are worth more than you are."

"And what, exactly, do you think I'm worth Spike?'

'Well that's painfully obvious now innit it. You're a washed up shell of what you once were. There's a reason Slayers die so young, you know. After a certain point they aren't much good for anything. Seems to me your expiration date is long over due." 

It had been ages since she'd had this particular feeling. When complete and untainted rage flows through your body suffusing every last limb and corpuscle. It was incredibly liberating for the simple fact that it came with a deep-seated calm that shut down all outside influences and left you completely focused on your goal with an incredible amount of clarity. 

Spike must have seen the change in her demeanor because he began to slowly back away. Buffy advanced on him, matching her steps with his so that they were never more than inches apart. "You. Don't. Get. To. Be. Angry. With. Me." She spit the words into his face like they were holy water. "You don't get to be hurt or upset or…anything. You gave up all those rights when you ran from Sunnydale with your tail between your legs."

Spike tripped over a forgotten bottle and landed unceremoniously on his ass confusion apparent in his eyes. Buffy loomed over his prone figure and laughed, the bitterness of the sound could have cut through glass. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Well you know what, that's just too god damn bad. Because you don't deserve to know what really happened. You got to start over without knowing how bad everything really was. I-", she said, punching him in the chest with every word.  "Didn't. Have. That. Option."

Buffy blinked her eyes to clear the tears that had formed there without her permission. She knew in some dim corner of her mind that she had been beating on his chest. She also knew that he was taking it, in fact, for some reason she couldn't comprehend,  instead of shoving her away, he was clutching at her waist as she screamed and raged and punched and kicked. 

Buffy went completely still, she found herself staring into eyes that were implausibly sympathetic. Slow tears dropped from her eyes and bounced off his chest as she sat there straddling his waist, letting the words flow with the pace of her tears. "I had to stay there. With the hurt and the pain and I can't make it go away. I'm lost and I'm tired and I'm so completely screwed up. But you, you're fine. You have this wonderful new life with friends and people who care and I have nothing. Nothing! And I want to hate you, oh I want to hate you so bad I can taste it. I have every right to, but I don't and I can't and that's so not fair. You should have to hurt too because I don't want to be alone, hurting all by myself. But you don't and that makes me so miserable…and so happy, all at the same time."

Buffy raised her hands between them in a silent plea of understanding, a slight smile haunting her lips. Their eyes locked, a clash of blue and green, a war of color that had begun before either of them had existed and would continue long after they were gone. It was elemental, it was pure. It had nothing to do with vampire and Slayer and all to do with man and woman. 

Buffy's could feel her breath coming in short gasps, like there wasn't enough air in the world to fill her starved lungs. She found herself leaning, just that slightest bit forward, so that their foreheads touched. Her hands spasmed slightly on his elbows, which she gripped like a lifeline. She felt an answering pull on her own arms and realized he was locked in the same position with her. For some reason that slight contact was the only thing holding them to this earth.

"It's okay, luv. It's okay."

Buffy wanted to scream and laugh at the same time, instead she settled for a quiet sigh of peace. It was becoming painfully clear that all these months this was what she was searching for. Just for him to tell her that whatever she felt, whatever she did, it was okay. His hand reached slowly for her face and she closed her eyes. She knew the next step. Knew the inevitable was less than a moment away. She needed this contact, she needed to know that she was still alive.

"Spike?"

Tasha's voice bounced off the walls behind the bar like a shot being fired. Their eyes flew open and for a moment they could do nothing more than stare at each other before jumping apart like a bomb had gone off between them.

TBC…


	7. Truth hurt?

A/N: Okay guys, I promise that is the last of my Buffy 'dealing' bits. And yes I know that the first part is way too long. But I wrote it so it's here.  Don't blame my beta, she tried to tell me. 

This chapter is full (and I mean FULL) of plot points. Get your number two pencils out, there will be a quiz later. I just have to say I am so excited to be reaching the 100 mark. You guys are the best. 

Buffy sat quietly in the garden behind the manor, watching the sky bleed into night. Leaning her head all the way back over the bench she was perched on,  she watched the windows of the house begin to light in preparation for the oncoming evening. _And the demons come out to play. _ . 

She'd been in the garden for the better part of the day. Not doing much, just breathing in and out. Slowly. At first she had been seeking escape from a monumental hangover but around mid-afternoon her retreat had shifted into quiet contemplation. _Well maybe not so quiet._ If it weren't for the fact that she would have scared the crap out of her hosts, she would have let loose the cleansing scream that even now was lodged in her throat. 

It was never an easy thing to****finally grasp the big picture and your place in it. Most people never really got to that point in their lives, when they could truly see their purpose or the consequences of their actions, but that was exactly what her fevered mind had pushed into the fore.  And now she knew why very few ever got here. 

In a word, it sucked.

Buffy shook her head and continued her train of thought. She'd spent most of the day digging into the heart of one Buffy Summers. She wanted to firmly cement the conclusions in her mind before the rest of the world invaded again. 

Buffy mentally applied her 'Freud colored' glasses.  'The subject comes from a broken and dysfunctional home, therefore, she's been allowed to behave like  a spoiled rotten little brat.' Buffy winced slightly at her own description but found it uncomfortably apt. 

'Though the subject seems to have some difficulty admitting it to herself, she seems to put a rather large amount of blame on one Rupert Giles for inadvertently placing her in a position to become a vampire slayer, thereby, systematically destroying her life.' Logically, Buffy knew that was utter crap. She knew she wasn't pushed, she had chosen to become the Slayer. But in retrospect, she could see the many ways that deeply-buried, completely false,  resentment had colored their relationship. 

There were so many situations she could have handled, maybe not better, but differently. Like Dawn, she could remember feeling , however briefly, that her sister had been****shoved into her life without any regard for Buffy's feelings. She just now realized how very close to the surface those feelings still were. As much as she loved her sister the same part that blamed Giles,****resented Dawn. 

Resentment seemed to be the theme of the day, or life when you boiled it all down, especially when it came to her friends. They'd been so shocked to discover she'd been hiding Spike. That little web of deceit was not a new practice in the Buffyverse. Had her history with Angel taught them nothing?

Which somehow led her back to Spike. _All roads lead to Spike. How classically screwed up is that? _Spike never did what she told him to. Strike one. He was continuously messing with her head. Strike two. He made her think and feel too much. Strike three.  Somehow a soulless vampire managed to cut right through her pious crap and pull out what she really felt. Maybe that was why she resented him the most. 

She could give herself some credit and admit that in the bigger scheme of things, she did end up in rather extraordinary situations. A little selfishness should be allowed. But that didn't mean that she should have let, no forced, everyone in her life to bear the brunt of her shortcomings. 

And oh, she had. 

Not that she was surrounded by saints or anything but still…

_Oh Christ, what's the point?_

This  round of mental gymnastics wasn't accomplishing anything. Not really. Willow, Xander…her mother, they were gone. Permanently. No amount of self recrimination was going to change that. Yes, she got that now. _You only have to beat me over the head ten or twenty times. _ The Slayer's job was to protect the world from the beasties and nasties that continuously got thrown about._ Not save the savees from… themselves_. It didn't matter if she'd been a little bit faster, a little bit smarter or whatever, that wasn't her fight. It never had been. They all, Willow and Xander especially, fought it the way they lived, with their entire heart and soul. Maybe it was about time she learned a lesson from that. That little epiphany had come in somewhere between 'I'm the biggest bitch in the world' and 'how could they not let me help them'. 

She had to move past it. Not that the pain would ever really fade but she couldn't get through her days holding on to it anymore. They were gone and…there were so many left. Giles. Dawn. She'd left them behind in England. Hadn't even bothered to call and let them know she was all right. They deserved more. She **owed **them more than the empty shell she'd been giving. She knew they were continuing on with the lives they'd carved out in the face of death and destruction. Dawn was probably knee-deep in school right now, trying to fit in. Buffy really needed, no wanted, to be there for her sister. And Giles. He was always there. Even when he wasn't. She knew, at any given moment, that a simple phone call would bring him to her side. It was about time she appreciated that rather than simply expected it. 

Which brought her right back to Spike. 

Spike.

 He'd gone out and gotten what she had craved for herself. To forget. To start over. How could she honestly hate him for something she would have done in a heartbeat? The anger didn't surprise her though- she'd never been fair when it came to him. _How's that for the understatement of the century. _ 

Last night had been the proverbial nail in the coffin. If Tasha hadn't come out when she did , they would have been right back where they had started. Nowhere. 

It was time to finally do something **for** Spike. She would let him have what he wanted. A world without her in it. 

"Buffy?"

Buffy jumped slightly as Sam's voice intruded on her little retrospective phase but she still greeted him with a smile.

Sam slid onto the bench beside her. She ducked her head to hide the grin at the careful way he made sure there was a respectable distance between them. Staring at his hands for a moment, she found herself mesmerized by how soft they looked. She wasn't used to that, all the men she'd come in contact with had hard callused hands. Even Giles, who spent most of the time in books, had hands that sported the rougher hue of a lifetime of work. Turning her palms over, she stared at the row of calluses that ringed her palm. Working hands. Forever working.

"Sam, I've been thinking." At his raised eyebrow, she continued. "I really need to take more vacations. You know, recharge the Slayer battery."

She didn't know what she expected him to say. He looked slightly startled and then a wide grin split his face, making him appear like a small boy with his first toy. It was charming, it was heart warming and it was infinitely understanding. "I think that's a great idea." **__**

Buffy grinned and sat back in her seat, drinking in the scents of jasmine and sunset. "Yeah, me too."

They sat in silence for awhile, just watching the night awaken around them. 

"So, " she said finally. Turning her upper body to face him and slinging her arm over the length of bench between them. "Let's find Mr. Burke, so I can kick some ass and make with the umbrella drinks."

In a bedroom upstairs, Spike was lying splayed out on the bed on his stomach with Rain perched comfortably straddling his back. There was a light click of scissors in the otherwise quiet room as she snipped the stitches away from his back.

"If you keep this up, I'm gonna start charging."

Spike pillowed his hands on his forearms, grinning. "And deny yourself the pleasure of getting your hands on my tight little body? Not to worried , pet."

"You know, I'd comment on your incredibly inflated ego right now but it's become painfully obvious that you need to fill that huge head with something, cause there sure as hell aren't any brains rattling around in there," Rain muttered, her tongue firmly in cheek.

Spike's grin was replaced with a less than complimentary sneer. "Say, pet, did anyone ever tell you what a great comedian you'd make?"

Rain's answer was slow as she attempted to maneuver the scissors around a particularly difficult stitch. "No..."

"Ever wonder why?"

She glared at his over-bleached head and casually flicked her scissor-holding hand, which resulted in the stitch being viciously ripped out. Spike came off the bed in a perfect arc. "Bloody hell, woman. Where'd you get your bedside manner?"

"Same place you got your over-abundance of charm, I'd wager."

Spike grunted and eased his body back down on the bed, muttering something about Florence Nightingale. 

Rain's smirk was triumphant as she resumed her duty. "Shut up and watch the lights"

"What lights?"

With another slight flick of her wrist, an arc of glowing blue, purple and green pinpoints of light began to dance in front of Spike's face. There were hundreds of them dipping and spinning to a quiet concerto in the air. Spike's  grin was renewed as he watched the perfectly choreographed lights dance for him. "When'd you learn how to do that?"

Rain's shrug was lost to the back of Spike's head. Glancing up, she viewed her handy work and smiled. It was good to be a witch. "Ian rented Fantasia last month."

"Hmmp. Poof."

"Yes. Absolutely. Don't know how I put with such an obviously gay and juvenile man. By the way the Blockbuster called again. You still haven't returned Snow White."

"What? It has a bloody marvelous villain." Spike winced. Guilt and a slight dash of humiliation tingeing his words, making him all the more determined to prove a point. "They just don't make evil like that anymore. Nowadays they have to make them all human and flawed. " Spike spit the word 'human' out like he had swallowed something rancid. "She was a true credit to evildoers everywhere. Beauty, brains, power and not a sweet bone in her entire body. Knew what she wanted and went for it, not like the wishy-washy sort you see these days."

"Yeah… didn't she fall off a cliff in the end?"

Spike lay his back on his arms. "Didn't say she was perfect."

"Speaking of powerful, less than perfect, women…," Rain said, causally, " …What the hell is going on with Buffy?"

Spike winced. "Say, luv, you gonna keep dancing around the subject matter here or are you just gonna say what you're really thinking?"

He looked back over his shoulder to be confronted with a look from Rain that clearly said 'quit screwing around'. _To bad she can't patent that look. Mothers everywhere would kill for a tenth of that one. _Letting out a long suffering sigh, Spike turned his head away. He didn't think he could look into the honesty of Rain's eyes and get this next bit out. 

"I really have no bleedin clue. She does…**something** to my head."

Her actions shielded from Spike's eternally prying eyed, Rain let her gaze wander over the name etched into Spike's skin. The urge to tell him almost choked her, but she knew it wasn't the time. With that in mind she bit her tongue and continued destiching him.  

Oblivious to her conflict, Spike waved his hand in the air as he verbally confronted the things roaming around in his brain. "On the one hand, I want to snap her neck, which is normal, right, the way it should be."

Spike swore he could hear Rain rolling her eyes behind his back, but shrugged it off. She **had **encouraged this little heart-to-heart. "But then these soddin pictures go whirling around in my brain and I want to…I don't bloody know? Hug her… or something." **__**

Rain jumped on that statement like an addict to a badly needed fix. "Pictures? What kind of pictures?"

"Well, not pictures exactly, more like flashes of things…images. People… places I've never been. " Spike slammed his fist ineffectually into the soft cushion of the mattress. "Stuff I have no soddin right to know!"

"Like what?"

"Like… Like, that she always puts her left earring on first."

Spike had buried his face in the bed and Rain found herself straining to hear him. Sliding of his back, she dropped to his side. Her fingers raising, to gently stroke his hair in a motherly gesture. She felt her heart swell up and break in her chest at the fear and confusion lacing his words. 

Spike rolled onto his side and his eyes bored into hers silently begging her to fix things. "Why would I know that, Rain? I don't want to know that. I don't want to know a bleedin thing about her. It's not…It's not natural." **__**

Rain continued to run her hand over his hair as her usual display of bravado dropped and she let the heart of the woman underneath come forth. Few saw this part of her. Spike had earned it a long time ago. "What do you want to do about it?"

"Do!," Spike shot up on the bed until he was crouching. His hands lay curled in fists on his thighs and every cell in his body seemed to scream out for a release from the tension that held him a constant state of turmoil.  "I don't want to **do** a bloody thing! I just want her to leave, so that everything can get back to normal. I don't want her in here," he said, tapping his head. Rain didn't comment, she couldn't over the lump in her throat, when his eyes went vague and his hand dropped of its own volition to his chest. Coming to rest above his heart. "I don't want her, Rain… I don't."

Rain calmly handed Spike his shirt and nodded. Neither commented on the slight tremble that passed from her hand to his. "Then we better help her, Spike. So she can leave."

Tasha slipped quietly away from the door. A smile curved her lips as she made her way towards the stairs. **__**

Buffy stared blankly at the rows of neatly stacked containers lining the fridge. Sam was already stowed away in his office**_, _**booting up his computer for research. She was in charge of snack detail. 

_Yogurt and blood. Don't these people eat?…Okay that wasn't the smartest thought to ever go through my head. Wonder where a good pizza place-_

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not polite to touch other peoples things?"

Buffy froze as Tasha's sarcastic tones drove up her spine like an ice pick. Straightening slowly, she closed the fridge and turned to face the vampire who was leaning casually against the counter, glaring at her.

"Seeing as you're not **people** I'll forgo that little pleasantry just this once."

Tasha pushed away from the counter and crossed to Buffy. "Well good, then we're agreed that polite conversation isn't on the agenda… I want you out of my house."

Buffy tilted her head back and was more than a little pissed that she had to crane her neck to return the glare. "This isn't just your house."

A smile void of all humor crawled over Tasha's lips. "Oh, let me guess, you're referring to Rain, our personal little paragon of virtue and light?"

Buffy wanted to back up but she could not, would not, give Tasha the satisfaction. There was something in the woman's eyes that hadn't been there in any of their previous dealings. Something that looked a lot like victory. Clearing her throat, Buffy stood straighter. "Would you like something to wash down that enormous foot you've just jammed down your throat?" At the slight confusion in Tasha's eyes, Buffy pushed the only angle she had.  "Let me simple this up for you, I've talked to Rain, and she has no problem, what-so-ever, with me being here."

Buffy couldn't control the shiver that crept up her back as Tasha's entire countenance changed and all Buffy could think was _The bitch is back. _

"I'm sure she doesn't, but I don't think you've quite grasped that Rain is not the 'be all' and 'end all' decision maker around here. Or maybe you're just seriously in need of a lesson on how the real world works." Tasha took a small step back and Buffy felt her gaze rake her body. It was in no way pleasant and neither were Tasha's next words. "Little girl."

Buffy let her Slayer mask drop. She absolutely refused to let this woman get to her. "Please enlighten me here, Tasha. I'm all choked up with curiosity,  how exactly does a…**vampire**, view the inner workings of the quote, unquote 'real world'."

Tasha stared at her for long moments as if deciding what the most painful way to maim the Slayer might be. She succeeded without raising a finger.  "Let's break this down into terms even you can understand. Rain loves Ian. Rain loves Spike. Ian and Spike both love me. You, however, are nothing to no one. Am I making this perfectly clear for you? Or do you need me to use smaller words?"

"Tasha!"

Buffy almost sagged in relief as Rain made her presence known in the doorway. Only the refusal to show Tasha any weakness kept her on her feet. For Tasha's part, she simply crossed her arms over her chest and flicked a disinterested eye over Rain. "I was just telling her the way it is."

Rain walked slowly into the room and sank down at the table. She looked tired and defeated. Ignoring Tasha for the moment, Buffy sat down next and put her hand on her arm. "Are you okay?"

Rain did nothing but stare at her for a moment and Buffy was startled by the plea for forgiveness etched onto Rain's face. Before she could process what the look was for, Rain spoke and drove all compassion from her mind. "Look, Buffy, Tasha is right."

Buffy stood slowly up from the table, hoping and praying that the betrayal she felt wasn't being broadcast on her face. "What?"

Rain scrambled to catch her arm but Buffy was too fast and Rain had to settle for talking quickly. "No, I don't mean she was right about you. I just meant that your presence is causing a disturbance in the house and you know as well as I do that distractions can get us killed. I think it would be better, for everyone, if you stayed in a hotel until this mission of yours is completed."

Buffy turned and walked swiftly towards the door, talking as she went. "It's fine, Rain. Tell you what, I'll just go finish off the research I was doing with Sam and I won't bother you anymore."

"Buffy, I'm sorry."

Buffy froze at the door, staring blankly into the hall. No force on earth could make her turn around and see the gloating look she was sure was plastered all over Tasha's face.  "Don't worry Rain. I understand." Buffy blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears clouding her vision. "Perfectly."

Both women watched as the Slayer faded from view. The triumph in Tasha's voice was making Rain physically ill.  "Well it's nice to know you're still on our side."

Rain had already pushed herself up and was heading for the door. "Oh fuck off, Tasha."

Just beyond the slight gauze of time and space that separates this world from the next, two beings stood watching the events unfold. **__**

_"We have to do something."_

_"Don't go getting your panties in a bunch, this ain't over yet."_

_"But she's going to leave and he's being…stubborn. Can't I just, you know, toss in a few charms or…"_

_"You may be new but the rules apply to you, too. We can't interfere unless there is a viable opportunity to do so."_

_"Oh really, and that vampire just accidentally rematerialized and staked Spike in the exact spot his tattoo would be revealed."_

_"That was viable." _

_"Mmmhmm."_

_"Oh shush. Have a little faith."_

_"Ugg**, **how many times do I have to tell you not to say the 'f' word."_

_"You know you have issues right." _

Buffy glanced longingly around Sam's office for anything that resembled food. Her search turned up piles of books, mounds of crumpled paper and more than enough mechanical looking doodads to keep an army surplus store in business for years. _I'd kill for a donut right about now._

Trying to hide the repeated rumblings of her empty stomach, she stood and stretched her back. A map of the world pinned against the length of an entire wall caught her attention.  Aching for a distraction, she wandered over to it and began tracing a finger along the raised and ridged surface. _So that's where Cleveland is…hmmm…And survey says?  I've been stuck in here waaayyy too long. ****_

A quick glance at the desk clock showed they'd been at it for almost six hours. It would be daylight soon and so far they had found nada. Looking for Mr. Burke had turned into the proverbial needle in the haystack crusade. Sam had called everyone he had ever known and no one had heard anything. The police reports came up dismally empty and currently they were searching the internet trying to trace his recent flight patterns. 

The steady click of the mouse and Sam's quiet voice as he placed yet another call filled her ears.  Sliding down to the floor, Buffy rested her forehead on her raised knees. She had to prepare, on the off shot that they actually found him. Get in the zone, so to speak. 

_Hell with 'the zone' I need to find a hotel room. _She could handle this. She would be mature and conduct herself with dignity. There was obviously something going on with Rain and she would just have to accept that maybe- _Oh fuck this. I'm pissed off. I accept that! _ Rain had come on all 'we fight the same fight. I just want to help'. Then boom! 'Get out, you're messing up my schedule'. Okay there was probably more to it than that and given some time, Buffy was sure she'd get to that part but right now…not so much. **__**

Banging her back against the wall, Buffy struggled to pace her mind through the correct words of the spell she would need when they found Mr. Burke. But no matter how hard she concentrated, the correct sequence was always just beyond her reach. Buffy wished fervently for Willow. The rather-detailed plan Giles had come up with involved Buffy finding a witch and having her,  _or him for the PC crowd_,  recite the spell. Due to recent events, however,  asking Rain for help was akin to Chinese water torture at this point. _I'll just have to wing it. Can't be that hard. _Just some words put together for the desired effect. She'd watched it done millions of times. _Yeah easy as pie….I hope._

"I've got him."

Buffy was jolted out of her reverie by Sam's quiet voice. Springing to her feet, she snatched the paper out of his outstretched hand. The address and room number of a hotel was written in his neat tight script. Practically bouncing in place, Buffy threw her arms around him and grinned when he seized up like little boy confronted with Great-Aunt Lucy kisses. Buffy stepped back, clutching the paper. She could be on a flight back to London by tomorrow. The bottom of her world nearly dropped out at the thought of never seeing Spike again, but she pushed the sudden ache away determinedly. For once, she was going to do the right thing. 

Shaking her head, she glanced at the computer screen where Mr. Burkes face was emblazoned. A slight shiver worked up her spine as his cold green eyes bore into hers. Pinning the smile back on her face, she smiled at Sam.  "Did one of your sources finally come through?"

"Umm. No exactly."

The sheepish tone in his voice set alarms off in Buffy's head. "Then what? How did you find him?" Visions off horrible deaths and unspeakable crimes danced before her eyes. What horrendous thing had Mr. Burke done to finally show himself? 

Sam ducked his head shyly and Buffy had to lean in to hear him. "I called the hotels. He was registered."

"Oh…Well that works too."**__**

Rain walked slowly down the stairs as the front door slammed shut behind Buffy. Staring at it, she leaned backwards against the chest she could always count on to be there. She let out a deep sigh- one part contentment and one part regret- as Ian slid his hands around her waist and rested his chin on her head. His chest rumbled slightly as he spoke.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…" Rain let the sentence trail of as she had no idea what exactly she wanted to say. She didn't want it to end like this but she refused to let Spike be hurt**_, _**either. 

She felt rather than saw Ian nod towards the closed door. "Was that the Slayer?"

"Yes."

"Where was she going?"

"I'm not sure. She's leaving or rather, she's gone. I don't think she's coming back. It's for the best…I think."

"Did she find who she was looking for?"

Rain shrugged slightly. "I don't know."

"Well, she's been holed up with Toad all night. You want to ask?"

Rain turned in Ian's arms and stared up into his understanding eyes. A light mist of tears covered her eyes as she silently prayed that she had done the right thing. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pressed her face against his steady solidness and mumbled against his chest. "Yes I do. I really do." **__**

Rain had learned over the years to turn a blind eye to the disaster area that Sam called home. Ian was slightly less tolerant. So while she shoved through the mess and over to the computer without preamble, Ian picked his way much more delicately through the piles of papers.  That was the reason why Ian almost didn't catch her when her knees gave way. 

"Baby? Rain? What's wrong? Talk to me."

Rain could say nothing around her seized throat. All she could accomplish was clutching at his shirt and pointing wildly at the computer screen.  Ian dragged his gaze from her wide, fear filled eyes to the picture Sam had displayed. His chest spasmed painfully and he clutched Rain closer. It was with considerable less than his usual calm demeanor that he spoke to Sam. More to the point, he barked out his question like a drill sergeant on the first day off boot camp. "Where did you get that picture, Toad."

Sam's gaze shot from Rain to Ian. Fear filled his voice at his friends reactions. "That's Mr. Burke. The one Buffy, I mean the Slayer, went…went after. What's…what's the matter?"

A low sound that could have been a moan but was in actuality the only scream Rain could emit at that point worked its way out of her chest. Ian carried Rain out of the room as she gave herself up to oblivion, locked away in memories of a time long past.

****

_London 1921_

_"This situation is an atrocity. An…an abomination to nature! You do realize what you are doing is wrong, don't you?" _

_"Cainen, please stop. You're going to hurt yourself getting all worked up this way."_

_Cainen Weatherly III glared at his sister. Taking a breath, he ventured on his self**-**imposed path. "Maybe you don't. Is that it**, **Rayann? Have they warped your perspective with their debaucheries." _

_Her slight titter of laughter further enraged him**, **as did her cavalier attitude and words. "Cainen, you aren't making sense. It's been three years and all they have done is help. Why can't you see that? Why do you continuously have to disparage everything I'm trying to do here. Don't you realize how many lives we've saved…"_

_"Rayann! You're my sister and I love you. But they have blinded you. You've…You've forgotten what they are. Well**, **I for one refuse to forget. Not for one second will I forget that monstrous beings like that took our dear parents from us. Frankly it sickens me that you so easily dismiss their memory. When mother and father died  I vowed to protect you. I did not, however, vow to watch you debase yourself nightly with filth like-"_

_Rayann surged to her feet, for the first time in her life moved to stand up to her brother. "But you have protected me! You taught me how to fight." _

_"And don't think a day has gone by that I haven't regretted  doing so. Look where it got you. Enslaved to demons."_

_"But I am not enslaved-"_

_Cainen swiped his hand in front of her face. This pointless discussion was only prolonging the inevitable. "You are, you just can't see it. But I can and I have found the way to stop that."_

_Rayann sank back against the couch, weariness showing in every limb. Sometimes Cainen got these ideas in his head and it was no good to argue until he'd run his course. "What are you talking about?"_

_Cainen surged up onto the balls of his feet and pushed his fingers through his suspenders proudly. "I've found the cure."_

_Raising a tired hand to her eyes, Rayann didn't bother to look at him as she stated the same old argument. "It's not a disease, Cainen."_

_"Yes it is. A disease I mean to eradicate." _

_She shook her head at the idea that once again she would be forced to endure this discussion. "Eradicate? You can't kill them Cainen. It will kill me. You know that."_

_Cainen dropped to his knees before her and gently pried her fingers away from her eyes. "I love you, Rayann, my little rain." She smiled slightly at his special nickname for her. With a mental nod she accepted that she would hear him out. Again. After all, without him she had no one. Taking his hand, she pressed her mouth to his palm and asked him to continue.  _

_"I only want what's best for you. What mother and father would have wanted. I know you don't want to hear this, but you know it's true, your recent behavior would have sickened them. I don't want you to worry about that though because I can fix this. You'll be their sweet little girl again. You just have to trust me. I promise this won't hurt for long." _

_Rayann patted his cheek gently and then stood up from the couch. Squeezing by him she walked sedately towards the door. As she reached it, she took one deep breath and ran for her life. _

_Rayann ran through her childhood home, her brothers voice echoing through the halls just short steps behind her. "Come back here, Rayann. It won't hurt at all. You can be pure again. It's what mother and father would want."_

_Her footsteps echoed  loudly on the wood floors, but still too quiet to cover terror-filled gasps that filled her lungs. Reaching the front door, she fumbled with the lock and threw it open even as her hair was seized in vicious grip. _

_"Cainen," she sobbed, "Please don't do this."_

_She felt his tears splash on her face as his large hands began squeezing her throat._

_"Sshhh, my little rain. Ssshh, it will be over soon."_

_Rayann began to scream as the edges of her world were became tinged with black. _

_"Rayann!"_

_She turned terrified eyes to the figure struggling against the barrier at the door. Ian, her mind screamed**, **but her body refused to cough up the word. She could hear her brother sneering in her ear but for once that night the words were for someone else. _

_"She won't be the devil's plaything anymore. I'll make her perfect again."_

_ Ignoring him, Ian sought her eyes and held them with his own. "Rayann!," His voice trembled slightly as he pleaded with her, a sound she never thought she would hear from his lips. "Please, Rayann. Invite me in." _

_Her gaze flit wildly from Ian to her brother. There was murder in Ian's eyes and she knew that Cainen would not leave the room alive if she let him in. On the other side of the coin, Cainen continued to taunt Ian, proclaiming Rayann a good girl who would never let dirt like him into their home even as he continued to choke the life out of her. Closing her eyes, Rayann made her decision. With her last gasp of breath, she sputtered out the invite that would save her and kill her brother. And the world went black._

_Rayann woke slowly and found herself  wrapped in powerful arms. Blinking cautiously, she raised a hand to her raw throat and lifted her gaze to stare up into deep brown eyes. The changes three years had wrought were painfully clear to anyone who looked; they were all there in Ian's eyes. At first,  his level stare showed her nothing but the purest of hate and the deepest of disgust. After enough time had passed his constant glares had shifted into an almost steady contempt, with brief flashes that showed the beginnings of a rather begrudging respect.  It hadn't been long after that the warmth of friendship lit his eyes and she found herself wanting to bask in it's glow. Which all lead up to now. This was the look that kept her awake at night, tormented her heart and ultimately betrayed her brother, the sweet raging fire of love._

_Rayann raised her hands and cupped Ian's strong jaw. "Is he…"_

_Ian closed his eyes briefly and Rayann felt like the sun had left her soul. " Not yet," he quietly admitted, "but soon."_

_Rain sat up slowly, her gaze traveling the room until it fell on the prone figure of her brother. He was lying on the floor, just scant feet away with his head tilted at an unnatural angle. Blood seeped slowly from his neck onto her mother's antique carpet. Pushing off of Ian's lap, she fell on her brother in two short steps. With shaking fingers she brushed the hair from his face and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Even after everything, she couldn't hate him. It just wasn't in her. They had stood together against the world for almost ten years and without him she would never would have survived her parent's deaths.****_

_"I can…"_

_She raised her head and stared at the man she was just now beginning to admit she loved._

_"No," she breathed quietly. Running her fingers over Cainen's face. "That isn't what he would want."_

_"He wouldn't feel that way after." _

_Rayann rose slowly to her feet. Harsh determination coloring her movements. "But I would."_

_Ian rose with her and took her hand. "What do you want to do now?_

_Rayann looked at the body of her brother and the home she spent her life in. "Take me away from here. Far away. Another country. I never want to see England again."_

_Ian scooped her still-weak figure into his arms and carried her out the door and into the night._

__

Spike shifted his weight on the couch as Ian came charging into the living room. Raising a brow slightly, he tried to crane his head around Ian's large frame which was currently blocking the TV. 

"Hey, mate. You're blocking my program."

Ian's gaze flitted from the TV to Spike. Anyone could tell he was having difficulty comprehending the basics of language, judging by the look on his face. Spike sat up further, dislodging Tasha who had been lying with her head in his lap.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Ian pulled a shaky hand through his hair. The grimace that graced his face was frightening. "I have," he said simply. 

Before Spike could respond, Tasha was on her feet, rushing towards her brother. "Ian, what's wrong? What happened?"

Ian breathed out one word. "Cainen."

Spike watched with a certain degree of interest as Tasha's already-pale face went a few shades whiter. The seriousness of the situation had him rising to his feet.

"But he's dead," she sputtered.

"Not so much, apparently."

Tasha was having difficulty grasping the situation. "But that's not possible. It's been, what, eighty years.  Is he human?"

Ian's voice grew suddenly cold. Deadly. The sound of it made Spike take a step back. "I don't know. I don't care. All I know is he will never touch Rain again."

Tasha clutched at his arm pleadingly. "Ian you have to calm down. You can't just run off half-cocked. We need a plan."

Ignoring her, Ian picked up a battle axe out of the weapons chest beside the TV. "I have a plan."

Spike moved swiftly over to the chest, selecting his own weapon. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on but he was in complete agreement with Ian. No one touched Rain. Laying a sword over his shoulder, he nodded to Ian. "Right then, what are we waiting for?"

Tasha made a move towards the chest and Ian grabbed her arm. "You're staying here."

"But-"

Ian shook his head, his eyes were cold and uncompromising. "I need you to stay with Rain."

Tasha's jaw dropped slightly. "She's not going?"

"She's asleep and by the time she wakes up, this will all be over. I need you here when she does…In case I'm not."  With that comment, Ian headed for the door. Spike quickly fell into step behind him.

"And do what?," Tasha called.

"Distract her." Was the clipped reply. 

Before she could respond the door was slamming shut behind  them. 

TBC…

****

****

****


	8. Live and let die

A/N: Yes I've heard your cries. Those heartfelt voices screaming out  'Wait a second Sass. Isn't this rated NC-17?' You in the back. I heard that. Does your mother know you talk that way? So hide your blushing eyes kiddies (always wanted to say that) there will****be NC-17 material in this chapter. And don't you dare skip to the end first. I'll be watching and taking names. 

I don't know who did it but if it was you here's a big ole cyber kiss. This fic has been nominated for the Bad Ass Spike award at the Watching You awards and an Immortal Moonlight award for best AU. Snoopy dances are abounding in this section of the world. So thanks you so much to whoever did that. I've never been nominated for anything before and it made me cry…in the good way. 

The feedback I have received has been amazing and insightful. I thank you all. 

Okay shutting up now. I'm staring to get all weepy. It's not pretty. Off with you now, go read. And No Skipping!!

Buffy gently eased the hotel room door shut and paused for moment, staring at the wood. With a big gulping breath, taken to calm her nerves, she slowly turned to face the room. Reaching trembling hands into her pocket, she retrieved the spell as she crept closer to the bed dominating the room. 

Bumping up against the edge of the mattress, she let her gaze swing over the figure on it. Mr. Burke was spread languorously across the bed in a pose the reminded her of someone awaiting a lover. The steady rise and fall of his chest, however, assured her of his slumberous state. Without warning and without any real conscious thought on her part, Buffy dropped to her knees alongside the bed. Twisting her body, she came to rest with her back pressed intimately against the softness of the mattress. The random and self-justifying thought meandered through her mind that it would be much easier to complete the spell if she didn't actually have to look at him.  Picking up the pieces of her scattered courage, she lay one hand against her heart, which was hammering away painfully in her chest and smoothed the paper out on her knee with the other.  **__**

Buffy stared blankly at the spell. The words just seemed to run together, of course, they **were** Latin. It wasn't such a big stretch that they made no sense. 

_Why can't they make spells in English? I mean really, give an American a chance. _

Buffy quietly cleared her throat, not sure if she was stalling or just searching for the right approach. The spell was supposed to bind his powers and she found herself wishing woefully for the days when all that was required of her was a big axe and some simple decapitation. Having a birthright could be a real bitch when you broke it down. 

_And how much does that little statement say about my life. _

She squinted slightly, tilted her head ten degrees to the right and attempted to sound out the first word. 

So not helping.

_Maybe it's like a tongue twister. The faster you say it, the more it makes sense._

With that plan in mind, Buffy hunched her shoulders, brought the paper within inches of her face, and began to garble out the spell as fast as she could. 

_Coniecto quisnam inquam combibo abs veneficus. Utinam vobis vel inster hac veneficus vere sentential. Alac decet corrupmo. Hac acquiro suum animus reversus. ****_

As the last syllable died in the air,  Buffy let out a long, pent-up breath. 

_Okay now, that wasn't so hard. No tingly sparky stuff but not bad. Oh yeah, I'm good. Go me. Who needs a witch, anyway? _

Rolling to her knees, Buffy slowly peeked her head over the edge of the bed. She had to blink a few times to focus on what she was seeing inches from her face. 

Deep green, wide awake eyes. **__**

Buffy was pinned to the spot with the force of his gaze. It wasn't that his eyes spoke of anger or fear or…anything, really. They were quite simply, completely and utterly, blank. Not a sliver of emotion reflected in their depths and the absolute lack of it had a long tremor suffusing every muscle in her body. Buffy watched, with an almost disturbed fascination, as the corner of his well sculpted mouth turned up slightly in what she supposed, passed as a smile. She couldn't help but wonder what the effects on his face would be if he opened up and actually grinned. 

_It'd probably crack in half… Okay, Buffy, focus. Seriously demented man here. What are you going to do?_

Some corner of her mind was screaming at her to run, but the part of her mind that controlled the use of her limbs had decided to up and take a vacation. So as it was,  she could do absolutely nothing except stare, frozen in place, as his lips moved in preparation to speak. 

"You didn't honestly think that was going to work did you?"

Buffy's heart slammed up in her throat as a thick, black fog suffused her body. 

_Okay. Spell. So not working. ****_

****

Spike and Ian crept quietly along a corridor towards a door that rose beckoningly from the end of the hall. Their trip to the hotel was accomplished in absolute silence, as was their assent to the top floor. Not that Spike hadn't tried to get some dialogue going, in fact, he had opened his mouth at least half a dozen times to ask just what the hell was going on.  But the questions had died on his lips each time he dared look at Ian. The smooth lines of Ian's face had been rippling between vampire and human in an almost constant pattern.  He could almost have set his watch by it. Not that he wore a watch, no self-respecting creature of the night would. He might be temporarily neutered- the phrase made his lips curl-****but he was not going to give in and let society conform him to it standards of-

Spike shook his head, the gesture designed to bring his errant thoughts back on their intended path.  

The whole point here was… Ian's demon was screaming to get out and Spike was sincerely glad he was not the one on the receiving end. 

"This is the one."

He jumped slightly as Ian's low timbre filled the corridor. Glancing around awkwardly,  he realized that during his mental ramblings they'd come to a stop in front of the last door in the hall. 

_Bloody well figures he'd be in the penthouse. Damn poncy bugger  probably thinks it would ruin that carefully cultivated image to be anywhere below the tenth. When are these wankers gonna get that you can be just as menacing on the first floor? _

Spike didn't quite know when he'd picked up a fear of heights. Never had it before, but now the thought of being very far above ground level made his stomach twist. Shrugging it off as best he could, Spike hefted the sword over his shoulder and gestured towards the door with all the showiness of an eighteenth century gentleman. "After you."

Lifting one booted foot, Ian smashed the door open. 

"Well now, was that absolutely necessary?"

Spike peered around Ian's broad frame to see the source of the voice. 

_Huh. I was right…damn poncy bugger._

A man stood in front of the room's wide bay window. The lights of the city reflected his features back to Spike's discerning eye. He was medium in height with short, carefully styled, black hair.  Spike could instantly see the resemblance to Rain. The wide set, green eyes and slight nose…but the comparison stopped there. Where as Rain vibrated with energy and life, this creature was nearly silent in his intensity.  His eyes cast an unearthly light into the room that was in no way a by-product of the streams of moonlight reflecting off his face. The slight glow from his eyes was in absolutely no way human.  Even for a vampire who had seen and been the cause of many horrors, this man could induce a cold finger of fear to crawl up even the most evil spine. In essence, he was just…creepy. 

"Cainen."

Spike flinched at the malice in Ian's voice as his friend****nearly breathed out the name. That tone did not bode well for anyone in the room. Spike didn't have long to contemplate just what exactly was going to occur since****the prey chose that moment to speak. His words left Spike wondering just who exactly was being hunted. 

"Aaaah. It speaks. Not a quality I usually associate with beings of your level. How…refreshing. Please, do come in. Now that you've so colorfully announced yourself**_, _**I find it rude to keep you waiting in the doorway."

Ian charged forth, his entire intent broadcast in his steps. Spike entered a tad more slowly. He could hear the subtle beat of Cainen's heart but there was something slightly off about it. Not sure if that difference was enough to offset the chip, he erred on the side off caution. 

Consequently, Spike was still only a few steps from the doorway while Ian was inches away from swinging his very impressive axe towards Cainen's head. A few metaphors tripped through his brain about men and the size of their weapons but he quickly pushed them back as he felt an entirely unnatural energy force him back against the wall. Pinned helplessly, all he could do was watch as a thick ribbon of pure black power wrapped around Ian's arm. 

Dropping to his knees, Ian could do nothing but rip at the thing on his arm. Spike had no clue what the substance was but he could see where it was beginning to eat through Ian's flesh.  

Cainen crouched right in front of Ian, a slightly bored look on his face. "You always were a maim now, ask questions later sort, weren't you? But, come to think,  I never really did credit you with an overabundance of intelligence. "

Ian glared back, gritting his teeth through the pain. "What are you doing here, Cainen?"

"That's a very good question. Unfortunately for you, I'm only willing to discuss things with my dear little sis. Now, don't look so upset. Tell you what, I'm pretty sure that if you think really hard you can come up with an answer."

"You won't touch her."

"Oh see, you're using that lump between your ears already. You're absolutely correct, I won't touch her. I won't have to. I can kill her without laying a finger on her. Matter of fact, in exactly the same way I can kill you right now."

"So what's stopping you, Cainen? Isn't this your game, attacking when someone can't defend themselves."

"Ah ah. Let's try to keep this civil, shall we. I'm not going to kill you…today. No, I have a much more fitting end for you in mind. How does this grab you? You will get to watch as Rain dies a slow and excruciatingly painful death. Oh but wait, that's not the best part.****You will watch all this with the knowledge swimming around in your helpless little head that not only is your beloved dying, but with the last breath she takes, you and your dear sister go with her. It's really quite poetic, don't you think?"

The fear in Ian's heart overrode the pain in his body. His arm shot out, even as he pulled himself to feet. Within moments he had brought Cainen up to his level by way of suspending him inches off the floor by his neck. A slight crunching noise rippled through the air and gold eyes bored into green. "You'll never get the chance." **__**

Considering his position, Cainen took the assault with an amazing amount of calmness. "But I will, you simpleton. You're not going to kill me."

"What makes you think that?" Even before the words left his throat, Ian was shooting forward, his teeth aiming for the vein he had every intention of ripping open.

"Because if you did by some miracle****manage to hurt me, all the power I'm expending right now to keep certain things…afloat, as it were, would be lost."

Inches away from his destination, Ian paused. There was something in Cainen's voice that just wasn't right. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Tell your little friend there to look out the window. I think this will interest him particularly."

****

At Ian's nod,  Spike, released from his invisible bonds, forced himself  to move towards the window.****His gaze never straying from the two figures in the room, he reached his destination and made****himself look out over the lights of San Francisco. Glancing back over his shoulder, he shrugged slightly at Ian. A puzzled expression lifting his features. 

Cainen's patience abruptly hit its end. "Oh for…Look down, you idiot."

Spike bristled but did as instructed. The sight before him had his hands hitting the window with enough force to shatter it. The glass rained down in a shimmering cascade of silver- directly onto the girl suspended in thin air a few feet below the window. Spike stared helplessly down into frightened hazel eyes.

"Buffy!" **__**

"Of all the idiotic, typically male, things to do. I mean, what the hell was he thinking?"

Rain stomped quickly down the street, Tasha a few steps behind her. 

She had been royally pissed off when Tasha woke her up and told her what Ian was doing. The closer they got to the hotel,****the angrier she became. She clutched that fury to her like a shield.  If she could just hold onto it, the mind-numbing fear would stay back for just a little while longer. 

Still wrapped up in her visions of the violence she intended to inflict on Ian,  Rain barely registered when she reached the lobby of the hotel and wrenched open the front door. Pausing for a second, she tossed a glance over her shoulder to check for Tasha. The vampire was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the sky with a completely dumfounded look on her face. 

"Coming?" Rain barked. She was in no mood for sightseeing. Tasha's complete lack of response added fuel to the already-considerable fire and Rain wasted no time stomping back to her. 

Which a vicious twist, Rain had Tasha's arm in her grip and was roughly pulling her towards the entrance. Tasha stumbled a few steps and then seemed to shake off whatever had been interesting enough to make her stop. With a low mumbled 'sorry', Tasha was once again heading for the hotel. Rain resisted the urge to kick her in the ass and took a step to follow. An uncompromising need to look up crawled along her brain. Before she could decipher if the thought was even hers, she had already complied.

"Holy shit"

She stared in horror as the image of Buffy suspended outside the top window of the twenty story building burned into her brain. Seeking momentary relief, her gaze shifted a bit and she was shocked to see Spike seemingly frozen in the window. He was staring at Buffy with an intensity that nearly broke her heart. 

She didn't know how long she stood there, frozen in place, her mind racing over a dozen different options. A presence next to her brought her swiftly out of her frantic contemplation. A very old, very familiar presence. She turned slowly to face her brother. 

He was standing beside her on the sidewalk**_, _**watching the Slayer as if she was the main attraction at the air show. 

Cainen leisurely brought his gaze down to meet hers. "Lovely day, isn't it."

He looked exactly the same. Which shouldn't have surprised her, seeing as how she hadn't changed in eighty years, but none-the-less, it did. 

"What do you want, Cainen?"

Cainen slid his hands behind his back and thrust his chest out like a dandy taking a mid-morning stroll. "You know everyone seems to be asking me that. Must be the question of the day. I must say, I'm a tad bit disappointed, Rayann.  I recall teaching you much more civilized manners than this. We've been here exactly two minutes and you have yet to ask after my health. Did that demon strip you of all your niceties when****he stripped you of your virginity?"

Green fire blazed through Rain's eyes but she kept her voice low to match Cainen's quiet tones**_. _**" Niceties are for people who earn them. I repeat. What. Do You. Want?"

Cainen tilted his head to the side and regarded her thoughtfully before answering. "Why, the same thing I always wanted, Rayann. My sister to be where she belongs."

No amount of willpower could have kept the derision out of her words. "Where's that Cainen? All tucked up home at home knitting you sweater sets?" **__**

"Never did know your place, did you? I can't believe, after all these years, you still think you know everything about everybody. The truth of the matter is, you should have died like a good girl years ago. I intend to right the balance you've so selfishly disrupted."

A loud, unladylike snort erupted from Rain and she fought hard to suppress****a smile at his affronted look. "The balance! Hello!  What about you? Last time I checked,****you weren't supposed to be here either."

"So nice to see the years haven't played havoc with your vernacular abilities. As to my status in this world, I will be exiting it shortly after you. See, my dear, I know my purpose. "

Rain's gaze raked his body, searching for the source of his continued existence. "What did you do, Cainen?"

 "It was quite simple really,  I made an…exchange for the greater good. The greater purpose, if you will." 

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So…what? You sold your soul for eternal life. How utterly prosaic of you."

"It wasn't quite that vulgar. Yet one more subject you could never begin to grasp." Cainen paused for a moment. His eyes taking inventory of her. Folding his arms across his chest, he brought one finger up to tap against his chin in thought.  "You know, I was planning to finish this quickly but it appears I've changed my mind. No, I do believe I've waited too long not to savor the experience. I'll tell you what. In the spirit of brotherliness, why don't you take your little vampire pets home for now and we'll pick this up later."

Rain wasn't sure what was forcing the bile out of her throat faster, his threats or his reference to brotherliness. Swallowing the many, many, remarks she wanted to make, Rain settled for simplicity. " Fine. Let her go."

 Cainen blinked once in surprise and looked up at Buffy. One look at his face showed he had completely forgotten he was currently holding the Slayer's life in his hands.

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that. She's kind of like a gift with purchase at this point. " Cainen leaned in conspiratorially. " You know, she's not supposed to be here either. Fortunately for her, she already knows that. Let's just say I'm fulfilling her wish."

Buffy's scream echoed continuously off the surrounding buildings as she plummeted towards the ground. The only thing that overshadowed it was Spike's roar of rage from the window above. 

All the players in the tableau seemed to freeze in place as Buffy came to an abrupt halt seconds before crashing through the roof of an old abandoned theatre below.  **__**

Cainen turned dispassionate eyes towards his sister**_, _**who was standing stiffly beside him, her lips barely moving as she chanted a counter spell. 

"Well done, Rayann. You've improved vastly. Unfortunately, not enough."

With less effort than it took to button his shirt, Cainen sent Buffy's helpless body crashing through the building. The force of his magic so immeasurably overpowered Rain's efforts that the resulting backlash drove her to the pavement. Cainen crouched down beside his sister,  a slight smile curving his lips. 

"Slayers, I've learned,  are pesky little creatures. It seems to take a lot to kill them. Let's just help her along, shall we."

Rain watched helplessly as Cainen siphoned off the last off her power and forced the building to begin collapsing around Buffy. 

Struggling to her knees, Rain fought blindly for her power. 

"Rain!" 

She turned her head slightly as Ian came rushing out of the building towards her. 

Cainen was nowhere in sight. 

Spike stared down at the tiny slip of a girl lying still on the floor of the building. 

Too still.

 A portion of his brain processed the chunks of roof breaking away and raining down around her. But the part in control was busy trying to decide what his next move would be. He could feel every fiber of his being screaming at him to jump. The fall wouldn't kill him but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the leap would forever change the course of his life. There was something inside him he couldn't name, something eternal, and it was centered  around the Slayer. He felt utterly powerless to change the events to come, almost like he was being pulled to her like a puppet on a string. **__**

Spike was no one's puppet.

With a force of will he'd almost forgotten he possessed, Spike took one small step backwards, away from the window.  Away from the Slayer and a fate he wanted no part of.  

The slight sensation of two small hands at the base of his spine made him jerk roughly in place. Before he could turn to see who, or what, was touching him,  the hands gave a strong shove and his body was unceremoniously pitched****out the window. 

He barely**** had time to register the fall before he was landing heavily beside Buffy. Lying stunned in the pile of rubble for a moment, he lifted his head and stared through slitted****eyes at the girl lying next to him. A piece of roof came crashing down within inches of his face. 

With considerable less grace than was warranted, Spike threw himself over the Slayer as fast as his newly-broken leg would allow. He was resigning himself to his fate. 

At least for the moment anyway. 

Seconds later, a large section of roof crashed down on his back pinning him between it and her. After one last glance around with what could only be described as disgust, Spike gave himself gratefully up to the same black void the Slayer currently enjoyed. 

Rain felt her stomach rebel at the sudden change in height as Ian snatched her up in is arms. She dimly registered Tasha screaming at him to put her down and save Spike. Rain tucked her head into Ian's neck, straining her voice to whisper that she had sealed the building.

" No one can touch them… for now. "

Rain's head lolled back against Ian's shoulder as the last of her energy seeped away. 

Ian's fingers danced over her face. "Sssh just rest, baby. I'll get you home. You're safe now."

"I'm not leaving him here!"

Ian turned a furious gaze on his sister. There was no doubt in his mind that Tasha had completely disregarded his instructions to keep Rain safe. It was that thought prompting his next words. 

"Then stay here and fry." **__**

 Tasha watched, stunned, as Ian walked away. Even as the sun began to break over the horizon, she stood frozen in place shaking with barely suppressed rage. 

_This is all that bitches fault. Before she came, Ian never would have turned his back on me. Never. _

 A chilling smile crept across her mouth. 

_That little twit of a Slayer and Miss holier-than-thou think they can do anything they want. Well they have no idea who they are dealing with._ _Spike and Ian are mine, and no one is going to take them away. No one. ****_

Tasha forced herself to follow behind her brother. 

_ Something is going to change. I haven't pulled this idiotic 'little miss goody two shoes' act for so long to just get kicked in the head._

Taking one final look at the building, her gaze rose to rest on the window of the room Cainen had occupied.

_Something..._

_There were things that could not be forgotten about in the heat of passion. Who she was, who he was. Who they could be…together. She slept, the one and only time he could begin to think of her as innocent.  Yet as he lay awake, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, her hand curled just so under her cheek, she was the perfect picture of beauty, serenity and ultimate innocence. Propping his body up on one hand, he splayed out along the length of her, and rolled her to her back  so that he could simply do this. Watch her while she slept._

_With one hand that trembled a bit too much for his liking, he reached out and trailed his fingers from breast to hip. His gaze never once leaving her face, he let his fingers show him everything his eyes could not. ****_

_She felt him even in sleep, she must have**, **because her hips surged sensuously towards his wandering fingers. Her nipples hardened. Her body arched invitingly. Her lips parted subconsciously inviting a kiss. _

_Even as his body shot rigidly to attention, he shoved the urge to devour down deep and leaned gently in to press his lips to hers. She was like warm honey, her lips soft and sleepy as her mouth opened to welcome his hard invasive tongue._

_And he wanted her. Today, tomorrow**, **and every second of every moment he graced the earth. He wanted her. _

_It took nothing. Just the moist taste of her tongue and the soft subtlety of her hip under his palm. _

_He wanted her. Slayer, woman…Buffy._

_Without breaking the kiss, he straddled her. Softly spreading her legs, he nudged and slowly pressed himself against her… into her. Deep, deep, deep, the kiss… the possession. Slowly, so slowly enfolded by that hot**, **wet part of her, so that the root of him was tightly wedged against her soft, inviting cleft. Rocking gently, riding her heat._

_So slow…so luscious, the feel of her honey sweet, sleeping, unfurling for him, knowing that he was hard for her and he couldn't wait for her. Taking him into her, letting him fill her and find reprieve from his hunger. His need. _

_He couldn't honestly say when it had stopped being about blood or violence. He couldn't even pretend it was as simple as lust. Because it was more than the entire sum of his past pleasures and yet at the same time, it was all those things. She fulfilled every hunger, need and base desire he could claim. She had changed them. Made them hers. She had made them…Her. _

_Even as the urge to take and feed off this purest of gifts was almost overwhelming, his pace remained soft and gentle. His mouth was sweet, like the purest of cream. He rode her soft and smooth, his thick strokes long and leisurely. He did with his body what she would never allow him to do with his heart. He covered her, surrounded her, protected her, and utterly possessed her. _

_He climaxed on the end of one forceful thrust, on and on and on. A torrent of sensations that finally eddied away into short sputtering spasms that left him weak and utterly spent. _

_There were thing that could not be forgotten**, **he thought as he lay there with his head buried in her shoulder. Together, they could be anything. _

Spike bolted awake, his body reared up to sit and he winced as various broken bones made themselves known. Running an exhausted hand through his hair, he tried to bury the dream that was still dancing around the edges of his vision. He let his body fall back to the unforgiving solidity of the concrete and closed his eyes. Studiously ignoring the warm touch of the Slayer as she curled against his body. He also took great pains to ignore the fact that he was shifting closer and pulling her tighter against him. Giving himself back to sleep, Spike never noticed the flash of silver light leave his body and pass into hers. **__**

_She stalked quietly through the lower chambers. Her mind focused on one thing. _

_To possess. _

_To own. _

_To wrench the ultimate sacrifice from an unwilling body._

_Reaching her goal, her gaze shimmered slowly over her waiting victim. He was exactly where she had told him to be. Not a flicker of movement in his frame as he sat perfectly still on the edge of his bed. He was completely unbound by clothes or any other sort of device thatsometimes had come into play. His gaze was where she had said it should be. Staring blankly at the wall, not at her. _

_Never at her._

_He knew what she required. What she needed. For the pleasure he was more than willing to endure the pain._

_She knelt before him, no words passed her lips. None were needed. _

_Her knowing, well-taught hands skimmed up the inside of his legs, pushing just this side of violently,  making a space for her body. He responded instantly and a slight gleam of triumph lit her features. She loved the feel of him elongating beneath her finger tips, the slight surge of his hips as he silently urged her sensual exploration._

_It was not enough._

_Not nearly enough. Surrender. His surrender must be total and complete. He had not even come close to where she wanted him._

_Her hands enclosed him with a reverence that was completely out of sync with her thoughts. She rubbed his firm, ridged tip against her lips softly, then flicked her tongue against it, wet and light. She was soft as she closed her lips over the tip, softer still as she sucked the most elemental part of him gently into her hot, wet mouth. _

_She held him and teased him. Swooping her tongue up and down the underside of him, a trail of wet from root to tip. She played him like a well-tuned piano and couldn't stop the tiny moan in the back of her throat as she rolled and flattened her tongue with varying degrees of intensity. _

_He reached for her then. She wasn't quite sure if it was her actions or the sound she had let creep out. It didn't matter. She was winning. He was wild with the animalistic need she'd forced upon his body. She would not relinquish him. This was not his game. She was the one with the power. Pulling him even tighter into her mouth, she bit down lightly as he moaned and rocked his hips up to ease her way. _

_She held him there for one long, voluptuous moment, one hand slipping under his body to cup and squeeze. _

_It was too much for him to take. Even with over a hundred years of experience, she knew it was too much for him. He wanted to move. He wanted to posses. She couldn't let him go. _

_She moved with him, anticipating every frenzied surge of his body. Her mouth encompassed him, sucking, pulling, biting, utterly possessing. He bucked, he twisted, he pushed at her violently and moaned a lifetime of curses on few short breaths. _

_She knew he didn't want this. He wanted her, her body, her heat and her flesh. _

_She felt the battle turn in her favor as he had no choice but to surrender to his body's needs. He betrayed himself. In that one sweet moment, she owned him. Completely. ****_

_She scraped his thickness with her teeth, with her tongue. A long erotic sucking motion, driving him towards climax. This was what she needed. His hard, deep shaft, a prisoner against her tongue and her avaricious need to possess._

_She heaved with his body, not even for a second letting him escape. He would never get away, not until she was ready to release him. He rolled and pushed and jammed himself up into her, but she stayed with him. Pulling and sucking, driving him to his body's, if not his heart's, completion. _

_The eruption was hard and tight and she rode it with him for every last thrust and throb until she had wrung every last drop. _

_Drained him dry. _

_Still she kept with him, until his body stopped shuddering, his hands fell limply from her hair and he gave his final surrender to sleep. _

_It was enough. It was her victory in a world where her existence relied on the quota of losses stacked against wins. _

_ She had given nothing and taken everything._

_Standing slowly she flipped a sheet over his still figure as a final concession to his defeat at her hands. Without  a backward glance she slipped silently out of the room._   

Buffy stared blankly at the remains of the roof, battling the need to cry. Rolling her head to the side, she traced the body of the man lying next to her. There were just no words for the injustices he'd faced in the name of love at her hands. Groaning slightly, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and almost tumbled back down. 

Sitting cross legged in front of her was one of the most undeniably beautiful creatures she'd ever seen. Buffy's sight was overloaded with silver from long flowing hair, to eyes. Even the shimmering gown was a deep silver. 

Blinking a few times to dispel the image, Buffy felt the line of her mouth stiffen as the creature refused to fly back into the realm of her imagination. Instead the vision sat calmly, regarding her with what could only be described as disappointment. Too close on the heels of her guilt**_-_**inducing dream Buffy could not deal with the obvious repercussions evident on this creatures face. 

Upon closer examination, she discovered the incongruity that ultimately loosened her tongue. This gorgeous, ethereal creature was…eating a pop-tart. **__**

"Who the hell are you?" The words came exploding off her tongue before she had the presence of mind to stop them.

The being calmly brushed the remaining crumbs from her fingers. Settled her hands in her lap, she spared one glance for the still sleeping vampire and smiled at the Slayer.  

"Honey. We need to talk."

TBC

****


	9. Had to fall

A/N: Number one I'm not sure if FF is going to pull this story. We'll give it a shot shall we. Number two I am in utter and complete awe of the power that is Joss and BtVS. Beneath you was amazing and I could never hope to write as well as that. I struggled with this one in the wake of such powerful storytelling. Keep in mind that the Spike here is NOT souled. Certain aspects however did sneak in but they were there before just not as pronounced. Okay I'm babbling. Hope you guys like. Sorry for the delay. And even though I am horrible at returning email, I do read and save every one and they truly make my day. Thank you all.

_……eight, nine, ten, heel, spin, one, two, three….._

Buffy paced the length of the lobby. Upon awakening,  she had spared a passing glance to the interior of the theater lobby she had fallen into. Now with a little more time to connect with her surroundings…they were still dismally uninspiring. A thick layer of dust coated everything from the tacky red carpet to the old movie posters. It also clung heavily to a glass candy counter, on which the newest addition to a long line of pains in her ass was perched. ****

Buffy tossed a glare at the wanna-be god, who seemed to be ignoring her in the artless pursuit of raiding the remaining candy stock. The silver creature had been babbling non-stop for the first ten minutes after Buffy regained consciousness. Then she'd discovered the snacks. Something about the unlikely vision added fuel to the slow burning fire of displacement churning in her gut and Buffy stopped in her tracks.  Crossing her arms, she jutted out her chin and cleared her throat. Loudly. 

After a rather longing glance at the M and M's, the apparition turned her attention away from the candy and mumbled "What?" around a mouthful of jelly beans. 

Momentarily content with the semblance of attention, Buffy decided to get some things off her chest. "So let me get this straight. You're some kind of liaison to the Powers of Whatever-"

"That be," was the rather prim interruption.

"Yeah uhuh," Buffy tossed back with all the cynicism of someone who'd been there, done that, bought the t-shirt.  "Anyway you're saying that when I died - What?!," she snapped at the completely noticeable shudder that wracked the being.

"We call it 'the incident'," she sniffed. ****

Buffy let loose a loud incredulous snort. "Well excuse me if my death and subsequent resurrection comes a little higher on my list of life altering events than the oh so catchy term of 'incident'."

One perfectly shaped silver eyebrow was arched in Buffy's direction. "Look, honey, your incredible pigheadedness caused a ton of hassle for us. Do you have any idea how much overtime we had to put in realigning all those prophecies? I missed at least three manicure appointments. Then you come back and we end up running around like idiots going 'oh no prophecy for you today'." ****

"Oh right. Sure. I can see the dilemma there. Those people must have been devastated. Seriously. After all, I know how much joy and comfort those prophecies always brought me in the past."

"Sarcasm is such an attractive feature in a young woman, don't you think?," she quipped, wagging her finger in Buffy's direction. "Well at least the prophecies gave some purpose to your life. Look at you now, running around without a clue as where to go or how to get there."

_She's really beginning to piss me off, _Buffy mused. _Scratch that. This is me, officially pissed off. _"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" ****

The woman waved her fingers dismissively. "Oh please, you've been running around for the last year or so pulling that whole 'oh poor me, I got to come back from the dead and get another chance to live a wonderful life, someone just kill me'. Not to mention you're sudden penchant for vampire-shaped industrial strength vibrators." ****

Buffy's gaze unwillingly strayed to the vampire fast asleep on the floor between them, blissfully unaware. She choked out a reply. "That…I…wasn't…he…I really don't like you."

"Well you get on my nerves. But, goody for us, you're on my caseload so we're stuck with each other…at least until my promotion comes through."

"Caseload? Promotion? So you're what? Social worker to the Slayer?"

"In a manner of speaking. I have a department. A specialty. You don't think we're just running around willy-nilly making this stuff up do you? Here's my card."

Buffy stared at the little silver card that appeared in her hand. Squinting she read the elegant script. 

_Sage_

_Lessons of the heart division_

"Of course how silly of me," Buffy said dryly. She crumpled the card tightly in her hand. "So, you're like**, **cupid or something?"

"Do I look like an annoyingly precious little twerp in diapers?"

Buffy barely bit back the urge to scream. After a few deep breaths, she tried for a calm tone. And failed miserably. "Just for fun, why don't you explain exactly what you're talking about, without all the cryptic crap."

"You know it's always the same with you humans. It's all just 'fix this', 'change that', 'explain the other'**. **You have no respect for the hours we put into our cases. The point here is, if I pull this off it's the last time I will ever have to get involved with your train wreck of a love life."

"My…hey!"

"Oh admit it. You're useless when it comes to men. I send you a perfectly nice boy and you send him running for the hills…helicopter, whatever." ****

Buffy was pacing again. This was not shaping up to be a good day. "I am not useless! I just haven't found the right-"

Apparently celestial beings aren't as infinitely patient as one might believe. Before Buffy could continue on her quest for self-preservation, Sage interrupted. "Give it up girl! There is no Mr. Perfect and right. The heart wants what the heart wants. There's passion and intensity and love and commitment. It's…messy. You're messy with messy emotions. Do you really think that some man is going to sort all that out for you and package it all up neat and tidy. Ain't gonna happen, sunshine. Grow up." ****

Buffy endeavored on her quest to nowhere. "I'm not going to just settle for-"

"Who said a damn thing about settling? Not me. Those are your words. Take a good look at that one, darlin. And while you're there let that part you keep trying to deny breathe a little. It's not about the dark or the light, Buffy. It's about you." ****

Buffy felt her knees give out and slumped to the floor. _What about me. What's wrong with me that everyone can see and I can't ever quite grasp. Even Spike saw…_ With her mind once again centered on the comatose vampire something else occurred to Buffy. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at Sage. "You can't honestly expect me to believe that the Powers want me with another vampire."

 Sage almost choked on her tongue. "Oh hell no!," she spluttered.  It took more than a few minutes for her to compose herself before speech was possible. "However, they just don't know what to do with you."

"You should write for hallmark, you have such a way of making me feel all warm and fuzzy." ****

"There's that lovely sarcasm again. Have you ever thought about being treated for that?"****

Buffy focused her gaze elsewhere,  rubbing at the spot between her eyebrows. She briefly wondering if Slayer headaches were more severe than the regular kind. There was a sensation tingling at the back of her mind. Something was missing here.  She was missing a pertinent piece of information and she wanted answers. Turning back to Sage, all questions evaporated in the wake of a sight that struck her dumb. "What the hell are you doing?"

Sage waved a hand at her freshly painted toenails. "Multi-tasking." Buffy just shook her head in disbelief. Really**, **what do you say to a silver person giving herself a pedicure? 

Apparently quite able to ignore the Slayer's consternation, Sage pushed on. "Look, the facts are thus**. **I had a perfectly nice boy all picked out for you. Then with your little swan dive, I had to go and give him to someone else. So then you get mojoed back from the great beyond and before I can find a replacement**, **you go and take up with 'him'."

Buffy flinched at the rather disdainful finger Sage flicked in Spike's direction. ****

Sage continued. "So then, after some serious paper shuffling, we put all these new procedures in place, trying to make the best of things you know. And what do you do? Go and fuddle that all up too. Really girl, you need to make up your mind and stick to it."

"Sorry if my coming back from the grave and having my friends die didn't quite give the right air of romance to my actions. Besides, hello, evil, meant to kill not fu -," Buffy sputtered to a halt at a slight movement from Sage.  "Did you just roll your eyes at me?" ****

"Would you quit with all the evil soulless crap. It really starts to lose something after the hundredth time you say it." ****

"Well it's the truth!"

"Sure keep telling yourself that. It's worked so well for you in the past."

"Look - uhhh - lady, you have no idea what happened between me and Spike so-"

"I know more than you think girly. You're not a god. Quit with the complex. This is your time. Right now. Make the best of it."

"Time for what?"

"To figure out who **you** are and who's going to be with you when the world implodes again."

"I don't understand you. I don't understand this. I just want a straight answer. Like now." ****

"Would this be easier for you if we just sent a thousand year old parchment and made you spend weeks trying to decipher all the double talk?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. _Actually now that you mention it…_

"You've got big stuff coming. Sooner than we thought. You need to listen to your heart on this one. If you decide, really decide, that he isn't what you want then someone else will be sent. But don't you think he has earned some effort on your part?"****

Buffy quickly skipped over some of the more guilt inducing statements and zeroed in on one she hoped she could handle.

"What's with all this sent stuff?"****

Sage sighed in that distinct was people do when they are tired of explaining the obvious. "It took a lot of trial and error but we finally figured out that Slayers need someone. Someone that's theirs and theirs alone. A tie to the world kind of thing, someone to fight for. Being a human with the gifts you have means you walk a very fine line. It's very easy to slip off the path and let the power take over. We realized that you girls needed someone that could keep you stable. It used to be your Watchersbut the times**, **they are a changing. "

"I have…had my friends for that."

"Did you? At first yes you did, but they moved on. Not away, mind you, but on. They each found someone else to be first in their hearts. You need someone who will see you as their center as much as they are yours." 

"And you think Spike is my center? Buffy gaped incredulously. 

"Well…you chose him. All on your own."

"Wonderful. Tell me…under freak in the dictionary**, **my picture is there isn't it?"

"Actually you just know yourself better than you think. Better than I did at any rate." She muttered the last to herself. 

Buffy's head shot up as something else occurred to her. "Wait a second. Does that mean you picked Angel?"

Sage's skin turned a darker shade of silver, which Buffy realized was a blush. "Yeah, sorry about that. Didn't read the fine print." ****

"We are sonot dealing with the ramifications of that one right now. But Spike…I don't…he tried to…he doesn't even know who I am anymore. He doesn't know what we did…" Buffy trailed off. It was too much. ****

"Not seeing the downside there." Sage smirked. ****

"I..I need to get out of here." Buffy rose and started moving pieces of ceiling that blocked them in all sides. Contemplating the wreckage she tossed a glance at Sage, who hadn't moved. "Aren't you going to help."

"And break a nail?" Was the horrified reply.

Rain slowly eased the comforter off her body and slid her feet to the floor. A quick glance back to reassure herself that Ian wasn't awake and she rose and crept quietly from their bedroom. Leaning back on the door, she opened her senses to explore the house for any preternatural beings other than her mate. Finding nothing, but erring on the side of caution, she tiptoed down the hall and paused in front of Tasha's room. Straightening her spine, she gently pushed at the partially open door. The room was empty. With a sigh of relief, she continued down the hallway. She had no idea where Tasha was this early and she really could have cared less, it was just after sunset and she had maybe an hour before Ian was awake. They had to get to Spike and Buffy before the seal on the building lost its power.

It took less than ten minutes to retrieve a small black leather pouch from its hiding place under the basement steps. Another five to arrange its contents on the kitchen table.  Staring at the motley arrangement of herbs, candles and scraps of paper, Rain drew in a long deep breath. The spell itself would take about half an hour, or at least it had the last time she'd performed it. Picking up a candle, she turned it slowly in her fingers, blinking at the moisture clinging to her lashes.

_Just get it done, girl._

"It usually helps if you light it."

Rain let out a sharp high pitched squeal. "Jesus, Sam, don't do that!"

Sam smiled sheepishly and sat down across from her. Picking up a plastic bag of dark blue herbs, he sniffed at the contents.  "I've got a line on a great spell. This is the one. I can feel it."

Rain nodded and snatched the bag away from him. "Good. We need as much ammunition as we can get. I want as many tricks up my sleeve as possible when we see Cainen again."

"Don't worry. You're covered. With three vampires, a Slayer and the arsenal of spells I'm collecting for you, he won't know what hit him."

"Was that the crazy optimism thing all the kids are talking about these days?"

Sam threw her a wide grin and picked up one the pieces of paper, squinting at Rain's tight script. "Confidence is a weapon. What does this one do…?" Sam's voice trailed off as his quick brain began to decipher the Latin. "Rain! This is a spell for-"

She reached over and grabbed her notes. "I know what it is, Sam."

He stared at her, incredulous. "You're not going to …how long have you known how to do this?"

Avoiding his eyes, she started mixing ingredients in a small clay bowl she'd pulled from under the sink. "About seventy five years, give or take."

"But …why?," he spluttered.

Rain checked her watch and lit the candles. Time was running out. "Why what? Why didn't I use the reversal before or why am I doing it now?"

Sam leaned forward, the gravity of the situation echoing in his face and words. "Both."

"I have used the spell…once and then I cast it again…with a few minor changes."

"Changes? What-"

She held up a hand to stop his flow of words. "The original spell linked them to my mortal existence right."

Sam nodded but confusion was evident on his features.

Rain shook her head and muttered under her breath. "and this is the smart one." Putting aside the spell for a minute, Rain rubbed at her face. "The spell was based on my mortality.  My life span. I kept aging, they didn't. Every second that passed was bringing not only my death closer but Ian's as well. I had to do something."

"Why didn't you just leave the spell undone."

Tears once again gathered in Rain's eyes. "I couldn't lose him. I didn't think he'd stay without it."

"He loves you, more than I ever thought was possible. Humanly or otherwise."

"I know that…now. But then I was…well I did what I did. Can't change it now."

"You never told him."

Rain ducked her head, shamefaced. "No, I recast changing the wording a little so that I was linked to his immortal existence instead."

"But you're reversing it now."

"Ian is not going to die because of me. Do you understand that? He's not!"

"Okay I get that but, Rain," he said grabbing her shaking hands. "Maybe you had your reasons before but now is a different time. Don't you think with all you two mean to each other he deserves to choose for himself?" 

She stared at the bundles spread out before her for a long tense moment. The last eighty odd years of her life flashed before her eyes in a kaleidoscope of events all featuring Ian at their center. She shoved the ingredients at Sam and dropped her face in her hands. Silence descended on the kitchen as Sam packed everything back into the pouch.

He stood and tucked them in his pocket,  awkwardly patting her shoulder he made his way out the door. His last words drifted softly across the room in the wake of his departure. 

"Besides I couldn't see him not noticing a difference. That's gotta be a big change."

A slightly malicious grin spread across Rain's face as she spoke her thoughts aloud to the empty kitchen. 

"Tasha never did."

_Things aren't the way they were before  
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore  
Not that you knew me back then  
But it all comes back to me in the end  
  
_**__**

Spike climbed the long hard road back to consciousness. Not that he had absolutely any desire to wake up**. **Butit was just getting more and more difficult to ignore the hum of female voices and the slight clatter of heavy objects being moved. Rolling onto his side, he braced himself for the pull and pain of misused limbs. He was pleasantly surprised to discover all his parts seemed to be in perfect working order. Levering himself up to a slight leaning position, he forced open his eyes and surveyed the scene before him. The Slayer was pushing and shoving at a pile of debris that blocked what he supposed was the way out. 

_Good on her…could probably use some help…I'll be sure and let someone know._

Spike tumbled to his back and searched the ceiling for signs of a possible continuation of falling debris. Or more to the point, he lit a smoke and let his mind wander to more pleasant pursuits. A slight shiny gleam caught the edge of his vision and he forced his eyes to move that half an inch left to discover the source. _Oh…balls._

"Tinkerbell." He nodded. ****

She was sitting on what had once been a snack counter, rooting through the smashed glass top. With a triumphant gleam in her eyes, she pulled her hand out with a flourish, producing a mitt full of candy. Ripping the top of a bag open, she returned Spike's nod. "William."

He sneered at the moniker and pushed reluctantly to his feet. "So what kind of nasty is about to come swooping out of the woodwork this time?"

"I'm not here for you…well not really."

Spike followed her line of vision and watched the Slayer for a moment. She was bent over, fighting with a large block of cement. He spent a good minute convincing himself that he was not in fact checking out her ass. Nor was he trying to determine the exact hand span it would take to cup one of those tightly curved cheeks. Shaking his head, Spike tossed the remainder of his cigarette to the ground and raised a brow to Sage. ****

Sage was engrossed in some head shaking of her own "You two are going to be the death of me yet." ****

A less than becoming smirk graced Spike's lips. "One can only hope."

Sage's eyebrows snapped together as she glared at the vampire. He could have sworn she stuck her tongue out as she faded from view. A low laugh emitted from his throat as he watched the last spark of silver drift from sight. "Always a pleasure," he muttered and turned to amble towards the Slayer. 

She had apparently given up on the cement and was currently lifting a board that doubled her in height. A loud crunch permeated the air and Spike glanced down at the pieces of broken glass beneath his feet. Lifting his foot, he tried to discern if any had imbedded in his boot. Intent on his perusal**, **he didn't see Buffy jump at the sound of his approach. Nor did he see the board she held, swing with her momentum to look behind her. He did however catch the up close and personal approach when said board connected with his skull. He dropped like a stone. 

With a hand plastered to a large gash in his forehead, Spike glared around the blood dripping into his eyes. "Bloody hell, woman! How many times in a day are you going to try to kill me? A ballpark figure will help out immensely."

Buffy dropped the board and scrambled to his side. "You're awake! Good…are you okay? Here," she said, reaching to move his hand away from the wound. "let me see."

Spike batted at her hands as they fluttered around his head. "Don't touch me, you'll probably end up ripping my soddin' head off."

She gave him the traditional 'all men are babies look' before redoubling her efforts. "It was an accident. Just let me-"

Spike pushed at her hands and when that proved futile, grabbed her shoulders and shoved. In the wake of his last and less than pure dream about her, he would rather swallow holy water than have her hands on any part of his body.  "You're the bloody accident, Slayer." The momentum of the push and unbalanced position all contributed to Buffy's rather inelegant sprawl to the floor. Lifting a hip, Buffy rubbed at her bottom and mumbled a pitiful 'ow'. Spike was mesmerized by the slight stroking motion of her hand. More than a few naughty fantasies erupted behind his eyes. 

_That's it. I'm burning my eyes out. If I can't see her then…wait a tick…_

Buffy had started to pull herself to her feet when Spike's hand shot out and grabbed a firm hold of her leg. With a slight twist of Spike's wrist he got the desired result.  An indignant squeal of pain from the Slayer. Shoving his hand off her leg, Buffy began to rub the newest sore spot on her body. The place Spike had just pinched. Hard. 

"I said it was an accident. You don't have to get all pinchy and…"

Spike's gaze had not strayed from her eyes since the 'experiment' had begun. So he knew the exact moment she understood what had just transpired. It was obvious from the crystal clear '_oh shit' _look in her eyes.  

Spike's smirk turned malicious. 

_Didn't look out below  
Watch the time go right out the window  
Trying to hold on, but didn't even know  
Wasted it all just to watch you go  
I kept everything inside and even though I tried, _

_it all fell apart_

Buffy backed up on her hands doing what could be only be described as a crab walk. Holding her hand in front of her**, **she tried to ward off the vampire who was crawling towards her in a way that clearly screamed 'stalking'.  She had a brief moment to liken him to a panther and then he was pouncing. Buffy grabbed at his shoulders and shoved. It took all her considerable strength to manage the maneuver but she succeeded in flipping him over. Straddling his waist, she fought the urge to rest once she had reversed their positions. Power was emanating through the air and unfortunately none of it was hers. 

_Not now, _her mind screamed 

"This isn't what it looks like. You can't-"

"Can't what? Hurt you?" He had managed to free one side of his body from her struggling grasp and lifted his freed hand to bash her across the face. Stars exploded behind Buffy's eyes and Spike kept talking in that low menacing voice she hadn't witnessed in years. "Kill you? I beg to differ, luv. Looks like this is my coming out party. Complete with a Slayer-shaped goodie bag."

Buffy took the time to roll her eyes at the pitiful metaphor. "No you idiot, I meant that**…**" Buffy was drawing a blank. There was no way to explain this without explaining everything. Which was not a place or time she had any desire to revisit. Buffy said a silent prayer as she switched tactics. "You have to listen to me, Spike. This isn't you. You're… better than this… better than the chip." ****

For the first time in all their years spent together, Buffy actually got it. A touch of awe clouded her features as she stared at him. Spike. He had baited, berated, loved and worshiped her. He was…real. In her defense it was completely understandable that she momentarily forgot exactly who she was dealing with. Not her Spike. Not anymore. With a move that would have blindsided her on her best days Spike reversed their positions and slammed his weight down hard across her stomach. Smirking, he clamped one hand down firmly on her neck. She could do nothing but wriggle ineffectually and try to store enough air in her swiftly collapsing throat.

"You know**, **it's touching, really."

Buffy managed a frog-like "What?"

"This inane thing all you do-gooder types have. I mean really, like I give a bloody buggering fuck what you have to say. Better than the chip? Hardly. I haven't been able to so much as spit on a human in years, Slayer. Do you actually think some flowery speech from Miss Pureness and Lightis going to talk me out of something I've been salivating over every bleedin moment since those buggersfucked with my head? 

Buffy honestly didn't know how to answer that. She was trying to figure out the very same question.

"It's a chip, not a soul, Slayer. And if I'd stuck around after it happened**, **I would have found a way to kill you. Course wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying, not getting the blood on my hands, but make no mistake, Slayer, I would have found a way."

A lot of things came crashing down on Buffy at that moment but the thing that hit the top of the list was the simple fact that he was right. The chip had never stopped him from killing her. Not really. He had sent assassins after her before. Murder by proxy. Could have happened. Never did. There was only one thing that had stopped him. Buffy closed her eyes.

_When all is said and done**, **epiphanies are highly overrated._

"Spike…"

 Spike tightened his crushing hold effectively cutting off any more sound. Bringing his other hand into play, he slowly traced a line up her cheek, across her temple and stopped at her forehead.  He tilted his head ever so slightly to the side in contemplation.  "Just what could possibly be spinning around in there?" He punctuated the question by tapping lightly on her forehead  "What do you think you could say to change the inevitable? To stop me." He stared at her for a few more moments and then shook his head deprecatingly. "In the end I'd probably just have to listen to some endless prattle about doing the right thing and that would undoubtedly bore me so…be a luv and let out a good long scream for old times sake."

In retrospect it probably wasn't the smartest Slayer move in her repertoire. Nor one she would ever be repeating if she was lucky. But as it was when his fangs came swooping towards her throat and his hand eased off her neck it was really the only thing she could think of. Buffy whipped her head swiftly to the side and smashed her mouth against his. ****

_To find myself again  
My walls are closing in  
Without a sense of confidence _

_I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take  
I've felt this way before  
So insecure___

Stunned did not even come close to describing the emotion Spike was feeling. Broad-sided by a semi would have been more accurate. But that wasn't actually an emotion. Rage, disgust, fear, shock, lust those were all apt descriptions but really that was only the tip of the iceberg. Not that it mattered at the moment because the only coherent thought he could claim was**, **_The Slayer's tongue is in my mouth._

As kisses went**, **it was not going to go down in the history books. It was awkward, unexpected and just plain wrong. That in no way stopped him from tilting his head a little bit more to the side in a misguided effort to bring this lip lock to a level that would in fact be one for the archives.  Nor did the innate wrongness  prevent a slight moan from breaking out of his throat when he was treated to not only the smooth, fresh quality of her lips but also the spicy tinge of Slayer blood when she inadvertently sliced her tongue on his teeth. He could have quite easily stayed there forever. They were fused together from mouth to hip. Both scrambling wildly against each other to…win?…what?

Before his mind could delve too deeply into that**, **the Slayer broke their connection with a sharp intake of air to her starved lungs. Lifting his head, he stared dumbfounded into her eyes and sanity came crashing down around them.

He lifted his upper body slightly and let his eyes sear a trail down her torso. Running a finger along the edge of her top, he pulled slightly to reveal the slight swell of her chest. Dipping his head, he moved to run his tongue along the treasure he had uncovered. Just before contact could be made his brain finally righted his equilibrium.

_Have you gone completely daft? She's the soddin Slayer!_

Spike scrambled off her like he'd been burned. Crouching on the floor, he drove his fingers into his hair as if he could pull the last few moment from his mind. _What the fuck is wrong with me? Kill the Slayer. Hurt the girl… ****_

The last sent a fission of memory searing along him. Keeping his head down, he raised smirking eyes to her face. "Well, at least now I know for sure why Angelus left you."****

He could admit that probably wasn't the smartest moment in his unlife but somebody had to bloody well say something.

The Slayer preferred to speak with her hands apparently. Before he could regroup**, **her fist was connecting with his nose and he pitched backwards towards the ground at an alarming rate.

He just lay there on the floor for a moment staring up her. She looked for all the world like death himself, come to deliver the final blow. Maybe she was. 

"What the matter, luv. Truth hurt?"

He expected, at best, a few broken ribs but what he got was not coming into even the realm of possibility. 

When she'd launched herself at him**, **his first instinct had been to grab her hips to push her off. Bad instinct. There was nowhere after that for his hands to go except to coast up her back and tangle in her hair. He was perfectly capable of lying to himself and saying he was planning on just yanking her head back. And he was almost certain he would asked what she meant when the words 'retro much' were breathed against his lips. But he was just in no shape to argue coherently  when he suddenly found himself yet again with a mouthful of Slayer tongue.  

He wrestled with her for six seconds. Exactly six. In that time he came up with approximately two hundred reasons why this was a very bad idea. And exactly one why it was a very good idea. Technically it wasn't his brain providing the latter. With a sound that registered somewhere between a growl and a moan, Spike promptly told his brain to sod off. ****

_What it meant to me _

_will eventually be a memory of a time when  
I tried so hard  
And got so far  
But in the end  
It doesn't even matter  
I had to fall  
To lose it all  
But in the end  
It doesn't even matter___

Buffy hooked her hands behind his neck, tangling her fingers into the short hair there and pulled roughly on his head. The barely coherent idea that she would let her lungs explode before she let go this time skittered threw her mind. Oh she could lie to herself and say this was all about self-preservation…but it was so not. 

She ran her bottom lip over the edge of his fangs, slicing her mouth deliberately this time. To give him another taste or ease her way. She couldn't say which. His mouth opened to catch the fallen drops and she knew it wasn't a conscious decision on his part. She didn't care. Using lips, teeth and tongue, as he had taught on those longs night he felt necessary to erase, she put her soul into that kiss. The soul she hadn't quite been able to decide lately if it was burden or commodity.

Spike groaned deep in his throat and pulled his head back. A last ditch effort to save himself no doubt. Well no one had saved her**. **He could burn up too. 

"I don't bloody well want-"

Buffy scrambled blindly for his lips, trying to bury the words inside her mouth. A low moan emitted from his throat and for a moment he took charge of the kiss, mimicking her actions to combat the arsenal hers had become.

Just when she thought he had succumbed to the inevitable, Spike wrenched his head away and sprang to his feet. "I don't know what you think you're doing, Slayer but I can guaran-bloody-tee that I'm not going to play this game."

Buffy stared at the tightening in his jeans and ran her tongue slowly, deliberately, over her torn lip. "What game?," she said, innocence personified. _Yeah right._

For a second she honestly thought he was going to try to hide himself, hide the effects they invariably had to each other, but then he seemed to collect himself. Dropping his hands to his sides and clenching them into fists, Spike stared her down with an intensity that scorched. "I've already been a substitute fuck for someone much more _advanced, _" he said, lip curling, just so, over tongue on the last. "than you. Can't say it was a gig I overly enjoyed."

Buffy planted her hands behind her and jutted out her chin. "Substitute? What?" 

"Oh don't play the coy little girl with me. I may be a vampire and I may be low enough in body temperature for you to close your eyes and pretend**,** but I can guarantee I am nothing like your precious Angel"

"Angel." Buffy sighed. Sitting up, she slumped her shoulders and pressed her fingers against her forehead to still the sharp throb that had sprung up there. Or never left. Slowly she let her body relax. On a scale of good Buffy plans this one was scoring a minus infinity. She should have known better. _You can't go back and hell why would I want to._ This had to end. This thing they did. Kept doing. To each other. It had to end. ****

 "Yes Angel! You know, big prancing poofy love of your life."

Shoving to her feet, Buffy completely ignored the slightly more than pissed vampire pacing in front of her and started to tackle the wreckage again. 

_Center my ass. That's it. If I ever get out of here I'm becoming a nun. _

Heaving a board onto her shoulder, she spoke in quiet, clipped tones. "Angel has nothing to do with this."

"Then what's it about, Slayer?" Spike yelled. Grabbing the board out of her hands, he threw it across the room and seized her by the shoulders, eyes narrowing into tiny points of black oblivion. "You that hard up? Fucking your enemies how you get your kinks these days?"

Buffy batted his hands away and then shoved him for good measure. "I am not hard up and _I'm_ not the one looking for a substitute! Have you happened to glance at your girlfriend lately?! "

"You shut your mouth."

Buffy threw a board at his head. "Make me."

Spike ducked effortlessly and threw his hands in the air, at a complete and utter loss. "Has it yet to register that I can kill you. That I almost did. That is if you hadn't tried to pull that pathetic little seduce the vamp routine back there. Just wondering pet, how far would you have let that go to save your precious skin."

"Number one, Spike, the day you could kill me has yet to arrive. And second…You idiot!  You could always hurt me! Well not always, but recently. And before you go off looking to get your vampy jollies, it's just me. So keep your fangs to yourself unless you happen to enjoy the whole migraine dance." Buffy stared kicking at random bricks of concrete until something else occurred to her. Spinning back to face him, she grinned. "Actually, you know what? Scratch that, get out there and try to kill every single human you see. Have fun. Go on now. Shoo."

"Remind me to go tell the village where their idiot has been hiding. But before I do, you're going to tell me what the hell all this about even if I have to beat it out of you. Come to think…stall."

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and contemplated her options. 

_Oh why the fuck not?_

"You erased the last four years of your life."

Spike sputtered incoherently for a full thirty count and then sobered suddenly. "What color is the sky in your little world, Slayer?"

Buffy shrugged "Fine. Like I really care if you believe me."

Spike cast her a sympathetic smile. "That's right, you're supposed to humor the clinically insane. So tell me 'oh annoying one' what horrible fate befell me to make me want to screw… With. My. Own. Head?!" Spike's smile had dropped and his last words came out in something akin to a shriek. 

She opened her mouth to spew forth a vicious diatribe full of endless accusations and fiery reprisals. She nearly sawed her tongue in half to stop the flow. _The end, Buffy, the end._ Instead, she took a deep breath made a mental goodbye to days of yore and said in a quiet clear voice, "You fell in love with me."

She wasn't sure what his reaction would be. Violence? Disbelief? An abrupt fall to his knees reaffirming his undying devotion? She was just warming to the possibility of the last when his actual words made her stomach cinch in rage. 

"Yeah," he nodded, "that would do it."

Before she could rethink her previous moment of maturity,  Spike collapsed on the floor and was clutching at his stomach  with tears in his eyes. All of which was caused by the loud raucous laughter engulfing his frame. Struggling to his knees, he wiped at his face and tried to talk around the snickering "I…I would…never love you, Slayer." Spike slowly got himself under control and looked up at an extremely irate Buffy. "Never, Slayer. You…well not to put too fine a point on it. You, everything about you, from your shampoo commercial hair to your bloody calling, disgusts me."

Buffy moved with the pace of a cobra striking. Grabbing the front of his shirt, she and smashed her lips against his in a stunningly brutal kiss. Spike's world tilted at an unnatural angle and sparks flew under his eyes. As suddenly as it had begun he found himself sprawled on his back. An angry Slayer hovered over him shooting fire and damnation from her eyes. He winced as her voice shot into the air between them and imbedded in his spine. "Explain that!"

He opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong. To tell her he felt nothing. To tell her…Spike dropped his head and closed his eyes. 

The dreams, the visions, the synchronicity of their fighting, the buggering turmoil in his heart, in his head.

He knew it was true, he could feel it. The sensation was almost like a dream locked deep into the corners of his mind. Barely tangible but constantly ticking away at him. Spike threw an arm over his head, over his eyes, to block her or himself he really couldn't say. He could  hear her moving around, still trying to get out. _Ever the efficient little soldier _ Flinging any thought of her away with a low growl, he willed his mind to go blank until only one thing could penetrate the self-induced fog.

 He was well and thoroughly fucked.

He had no idea how long he lay there. Didn't care. It was too much. He felt like he'd been in a lovely haze and someone had ripped the blinders off the very fabric of existence. He was finally where he had always wanted to be. He belonged. He fit. And she was taking it all away. Too much. It wasn't until he felt a small hand on his shoulder and a softly whispered "Spike?" that he opened his eyes. Staring at Rain's concerned face, he groaned out a quiet, "Stake me." 

Sam sat back in his chair and linked his fingers behind his head. The steady thrum of the printer accompanied his feeling of accomplishment. The last spell he had found was definitely the winner. He had never seen anything like it. If it worked all their worries would be over. He couldn't wait for the others to get home. The slight creaking of the door had him turning his head and a smile of welcome lit his features. 

Five minutes later Tasha slipped into the passenger seat of a car idling in front of the manor.

"That was quick," Cainen said from the drivers side.

Tasha adjusted her seatbelt and smiled. "I don't screw around"

He nodded and locked speculating eyes on her. "You're sure they will find the invitation."

Tasha's grin grew much more malevolent in its intensity. "They aren't going to be able to miss it. Trust me." She calmly tossed a sheaf of computer paper in his lap.  "This was on the geeks printer."

Cainen took the pages and scanned the contents "Well this is very impressive. They might have actually had a chance with this." Shrugging, he tucked the sheets in his coat pocket before pulling into the street.  "Too bad."

The interior of the house was virtually silent in the wake of her departure. The only vague sound was a slight, harsh rattle of air signifying the last few gasps of breath from where a man lay dying.  The fine point of a kitchen knife imbedded in his heart. 

  
   
  


  
  
   
  
   
  



	10. The beginning and the end 1

Focus. Focus. Must focus on anything. Anything but there. It was calling to her, pulling and scratching at her mind, ripping apart her sanity. 

Buffy choked hard on the wall of tears caught in her throat. She forced her eyes to focus on the peaked perfection of the ceiling, the chandeliers hanging in uninterrupted uniformity, on the slight cracks wedging their way across the roof like tiny black webs on a pristine landscape...on anything but the vicious all-consuming diatribe of images flashing behind her minds eye. 

She had no concept of how long she'd been laying in Cainen's house, in his pretentious, opulent...what was this room anyway. Ballroom? Dance place? Not that it really mattered no one was making with the merry at the moment. Not quite.  She could feel them more than she could hear them. The laughter. It was like angry ants crawling under her skin. The high pitched cackle-like sound from that black haired bitch. It reminded her of that witch in that movie Dawn made her watch over and over when they were kids. What was that movie? Doesn't matter. The laugh****was better though. Better than his. His was lower, a slow chuckle of benevolent mirth for the hapless figures writhing on his floor. Almost like he hadn't expected to enjoy it so much.  But hadn't he? Didn't he? Or else, what was the point? They weren't even to the main event. This was just a prequel, an appetizer. 

Her head rolled to the right. Had to be right because she couldn't turn left. No way was she going to look at...so, right it was. 

Right wasn't much better though, that brought her****face to face with...Rain, curled up in a ball, pulling at her hair, mewling like a wounded cat, scratching at her eyes. Buffy wanted to help her, pull her hands away, clean off the blood. Wanted to. Couldn't. The images pulled harder, like long fingers ripping into her mind, dragging her down, finding a weakness in her distraction. **__**

Concentrate. Cainen was talking again. Telling her to give in. She wanted to spit in his face, lay him flat with a quip...tear out his heart and stomp on the mess. Couldn't. All that Slayer strength was banished behind the hell in her mind. The hell she had made. Was that how Rain felt? No more magic. Had to suck. 

Cold liquid dripped down the back of her throat. Tears. She hated that. Didn't want them to see her cry. Just couldn't stop it. Would she choke? Would this end if she did?

Buffy rolled her body to match the direction of her head and assumed the same position she'd witnessed Rain in. 

It should have worked. It should have worked. Why didn't it work? They'd had a plan. A good plan. An address even. No research needed****to find the Big Bad, he'd left directions. That had to be good right? A bonus. Not so much. Course it had been a stained missive. Dark brown...wet...sticky...cold. No. Not right now. Couldn't go there yet. Had to concentrate. 

She'd given him his coat. That counted, didn't it? He'd snatched it away as if she'd been a snake holding his prized possession. Angry. He was so angry at her. Said it wasn't true. Couldn't be true. But she could see it churning behind his eyes; he believed. She'd laughed then. Laughed at him. Told him he could think what he wanted. Didn't make it true. A snake. Maybe he was right? 

No. 

Cainen. Cainen was the snake. Or the spider. Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly. Three vampires, a witch and a Slayer could take down one bad guy, right? A little team effort, some distraction and, don't forget, good ole brute force. No problem. 

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 

The mind is a powerful weapon. Giles taught her that. With the right attitude and strength of convictions a person could accomplish anything. Giles should have taught the other side of the coin. The part where your powerful weapon gets turned against you. How do you fight your own mind?

Cainen was so smooth. Sitting there all cocky. Not a care in the world. Like this didn't matter. Like they didn't matter.

They didn't.

Ian went down first. He'd taken maybe two steps in the room before his body hit the floor. Course, Rain was right there. Holding him, trying to wake him up. Stupid. That's what Cainen wanted. 

Didn't know that, though. Not then.

Rain started shouting orders and they were followed. Well, mostly. In defense of the group, everything went to crap right about then anyway. 

Spike's fingers had curled around Cainen's throat, lifting him in that way that all vampires seem to hold near and dear to their repertoires and then...

Why do power orbs have to be so damn bright when they go off? Really, either hand out sunglasses or get a black one. The red ones are especially bad. They give off such an extreme flash that everything looks drenched in blood. Which was pretty apt, considering.

That's right about when the laughter started. Not that you really care about maniacal giggle fests when you're clutching your head like your brain is trying to ooze out of your ears. It kinda seemed like an elaborate display of female empowerment, because the boys got to go to sleep all peaceful-like while the girls got to roll around on the floor. 

Cainen detailed his plan at that point. Pretty sure anyway. Kind of distracted what with the brain oozage, but he's a bad guy and they invariably always tell you the exact plan even though most times you don't really give a shit. So it stands to reason that's what he did.

Rain should have won an award, what with the careful fluttering she was doing over her unconscious boyfriend , the threats of retribution she managed to scream, very inventively, at her brother, and the steady hand she kept clutched to her head.****

****

Yeah, there should be a multi-tasking award. 

Course, even the most erstwhile threat dies pretty quick when one of your faithful, trusted companions slaps you upside the face.

So that would make Tasha the snake. Cold, deadly, vindictive, backstabbing...yeah. Tasha was the snake. **__**

Rain's body started thrashing harder beside her. 

Strong, smart, dependable...naive, Rain. 

She really wasn't prepared. Oh, she thought she was, thought she could handle it, but reality and the misty haze of detachment we throw up in our minds to block out the bad bits are two entirely separate things. What had he called it? A taste of things to come? Something like that but entirely more British sounding. Ian and Spike were going to get their old lives back, completely free of past pain and guilt and just so we were under no illusions of what that would entail, we would get an unguided tour through their memories. Yay! Not. 

Rain went under first. She actually took Ian's hand. Contact being the tie that binds, so to speak. Stupid. Cainen was smarter. He lashed their hands together with a strip of leather. It hadn't taken long for Rain to start screaming, for her to pull away from her beloved. 

Which left the thought, was she the victim or the prey in those visions? Didn't have long to wonder. No matter how big of a stink Tasha put up over it. Gotta admit, it was pretty funny watching Tasha fly across the room from the backhand Cainen dealt her. Not so funny when he explained how much better it would be to watch Spike kill a Slayer that knew his pain intimately. **__**

Intimately. Walk a mile in another man's shoes. See the world through another's eyes. Watch and watch and feel and cry but never touch. **__**

 Another low scream from Rain****brought her crashing back to the present. Gotta concentrate. Can't go back there. Not again. Can't see anymore. Can't. Rain's eyes are open now. Not an enjoyable experience. Especially when all you can see are the white parts.****Gotta move. They're laughing again. Or still. Doesn't matter. Concentrate. Rolled too far. Too far left...left. Don't look at him. Don't look at him. Don't...


	11. The beginning and the end 2

_No more blood. No more screaming. No more...please no more. _

The screams of her own twisted psyche faded as the void took her over. Void, the absence of light, of dark, of...anything. It was here she waited, fingernails digging bloody welts into her knees, back muscles cramping and pulling from enforced paralysis, waiting for her equilibrium to right. It was a perverse paradox to have a corporeal body in a place that nothing existed. 

With every passing second, sanity returned and she grimaced at the effect. 

_Guess being crazy doesn't really go with the whole getting to know the inner demon portion of the program. ****_

She could feel it coming again. Another snippet, to pull her in, pull her down, where all she could see, think, hear and taste was Spike._ Centuries ran through her mind within the blink of an eye, lifetimes soaked in blood, slowing and stopping here and there to grant brief glimpses of..._

_Who could live with that kind of...? Who would want to?_

Some of those blood-soaked images would come crawling back up in the middle of some far-off****night to claw at her throat but that was nothing less than she'd expected. It was the other things, all those many, many other things that seared her vision and made her beg for the end. __

A whimper whipped through her conscious mind. Once a thing was seen, it could never be unseen. 

And once you saw someone in a certain light you could never, ever unsee them.

The whimper came again, this time with a name attached. _Angel_.**__**

She'd known, she'd always known, but maybe she had a bit of Rain's naivety after all. 

She wasn't ready. She could still hear the sickening tear of leather biting into skin, feel the gut-wrenching churn of being ripped asunder from the outside in. She could still see Angel's face...

A scar on a heart that didn't have enough space left to take it, a rip in her mind powerful enough to throw her back to true reality, if only for a short time. **__**

A breeze blew across her face and she tossed her head, denying the visions even as she opened her eyes. 

Darkness shadowed her.****Not true dark, the kind that envelops your soul and drags you into the abyss, regular dark, candlelight, soft misty music, skin on silk.

As she focused and was again pulled deep into the mind of another, she cringed and stifled a caustic laugh as a bit of her old personality fought its way to the top. 

_Not this. Please not this. I'll do penance. I'll clean Giles'dentures...if he has dentures, just please don't make me watch this. _

A low moan drifted through her ears and over her senses.

_Shit..._

_She was his fire and brimstone, his grace and light, his deadly beauty, his dark goddess, his..._

"My Spike. You'll always be my Spike, won't you?"

Spike smiled into Dru's abdomen and raised his eyes. "Always, my queen." Sliding his hand down her bent knee, he slowly gathered up the silk encasing her frame and glided it up over her thigh. 

"You won't let her take my prince?"

Spike's response was slightly muffled as he buried his face in the treasures he'd uncovered. "Who's that, my love?"

"The girl..." He felt her body rock as she tossed her head in time to her words. "...soul pincher, avenging angel, golden girl, the Slayer. I can see her, just there. Dipping her claws in my prince, ripping him apart...stealing all his pretty darkness away. Kill her, before she takes it away, takes it all away."**__**

Spike groaned, and not in the way he'd been hoping to. Resettling her garments, he crawled up Dru's length and gripped her face in his hands so that she had no choice but see the truth in his eyes. 

They'd barely put a toe in this backwoods little hole in the road and he could feel it, the power, her cure, ripping across his face and settling in his lungs like bits of acrid smoke. All he had to do was get rid of some insignificant little bit of a girl who thought she was a Slayer and those brat-worshipping idiots would bend over backwards to help him. For the first time in far too long, hope had glimmered and he'd worked it for all he was worth.  A bit of swagger and show, all bluster and bravado, a taste of their salvation to save his, but then...

 She'd collapsed, his goddess of the night, his reason for dying, clawing at her face, screaming about that girl ruining the party. Every welt on her cheeks****drew scars in his heart. Three hours and a strong sedative finally calmed her. Time had lost all meaning as he lay curled around her, watching her sleep, watching the perfection of her face right itself. Nothing would ever take her away from him. Ever. 

"Dru, luv, we've been through this before. It's already done." Spike ran his finger down the side of her temple, pausing slightly at the reddish tint remaining even now, and continued the momentum across her collar bone. "The Slayer here is a joke, I hear tell she was actually a cheerleader. It won't even be like a real fight."

And it wouldn't. This one would be a walk in the park, couldn't really see what the big deal was. The rest of them were practically pissing their pants at the mere mention of her name but he'd seen her. Done his homework, checked out the scourge of the vampire world. What a travesty that one was. Dancing. What kind of Slayer spent her nights shaking her ass in some run-down club? Suppose it was like everything else the modern world was spitting out these days; they just don't make mortal enemies like they used to. The others would have been disappointed.  They were warriors, a credit to their kind and all that crap, but her, she was just lucky. 

Actually, not to put too fine a point on it, she was a cheap fuck in a back alley. Another time, another place, all those teenage hormones stirring beneath the surface...he could almost taste her. But here and now, she was simply a means to an end. Get rid of the little bitch and all his efforts would be rewarded.

Spike dipped his head and ran his tongue along the path his finger had created. 

Speaking of tasting.

There was nothing like it, nothing like her. Dru surrounded him, engulfed him, tore him apart and rebuilt him. She was his ending and his beginning. She was...still talking.  

"I can see her...different, not like the others...the stars-"

Spike lay his lips gently against hers, whispering into her mouth. "Ssshh. The stars are wrong. She's nothing. Less than."

He was really starting to dislike the perky little bitch. Killing her was all well and good but he saw no reason to chat about her in his free time, unfortunately once Dru got a bee in her bonnet it was next to impossible to shake it loose. This Slayer was irritating him...and she was interrupting a perfectly good shag. 

Dru's body bucked suddenly and then subsided into wave after wave of debilitating spasms. Spike's irritation faded into pure fear. 

"It's cold. It's so cold when you're gone." Her voice was low, childlike, and it raked across his skin like the blade of a knife.

Spike rolled to the side of the bed and gathered her tight against his body, trying desperately to still the shudders wracking her slight frame. She could be so delicate, his beautiful little patch of heaven. He would give his own life to save her. Rip the world from one end to the other so as no harm came to one hair on her head. 

Rolling her head on his shoulder, her voice quavered as it rose to a wail. "She'll ruin everything, she'll ruin everything."

The line of his mouth thinned and his features hardened to ice. No more waiting. The Slayer had to die. Today.

He bent his face and pressed it into her hair, running his hands up and down her back. "Nothing will take me away, my queen, not from you, not ever."

Buffy shook. She'd known it. How could she not? It was painfully obvious to everyone how much Spike loved Drusilla. But...he just loved her so damn much. He would have done absolutely anything for her. How could anyone possibly love that much? With no bias what-so-ever. It was...startling and frightening. There were no words for what she had felt inside him. The feelings he had were so utterly consuming that no person, mortal or otherwise, could have ever tapped the brink of them much less delved into the endless abyss of their depths. 

It wasn't his love for Dru that shook her to the core. It wasn't the thought of that all-consuming emotion that dragged sound raggedly up her throat until it erupted from her mouth in a long wail of loss and anguish. It was something entirely separate yet infinitely entangled that rode down her face in a cascade of tears as the next journey dragged her from the void and into his mind. **__**

It was the quiet and simple truth that he'd whispered into her skin and she'd shrugged off as a cheap tactic in his quest for her heart. She'd never understood. But now...now she had no idea what to do with that simple but horrifically complicated knowledge. 

He'd told her. She hadn't known what it meant. Hadn't cherished it for the gift it was. He loved her more than he had ever loved Dru. **__**

_If you had to wrap it up in a package and call him a word. It was cool. He was cool. Like James Dean with fangs...maybe._

_Or used to be.___

_Before she screwed it up.___

_Bitch._

As another swallow from the bottle he clenched slid down his throat, pain and fury rolled up his body and exploded as he hurled bits of his anger into the storefront he was passing. He stood back surveying the effects of glass on glass and reached for his smokes, a slight sting registered as his hand brushed the linings of his pocket and he lifted his fingers splaying them out in the dim streetlights. A fine trail of blood dripped slowly to the pavement and he watched it with a satisfied detachment.

_Beautiful...in a detrimental kinda way.__ Not quite as poetic as broken bodies and pools of blood but attractive in a...oh who the hell am I kidding?_

Dropping to his knees he gripped the edges of the shop window reveling in the slice of glass through the ravaged tendons in his hands. 

_Bloody chip.__ May as well have just cut off his dick. _Made him weak made him pathetic. Emasculated.__

Nothing more than the antics of a cheap thug in a cool coat. He'd worked very hard to be cool, deadly, a creature no one would ever turn their back on...never walk away from. One year, one girl, and a hundred years had gone to hell in a hand basket. 

He was not neutered no matter what 'Miss Priss' said. He'd seduced hundreds of thousands of women with less effort than it took to cross the bloody street. One holier than though little bitch was not going to mar an otherwise perfect record. Just hadn't figured the thing out yet. The thing that would have her falling all over herself for a piece of him. Everyone had one just needed to conjure up the right trick, but he could guaran-bloody-tee it wasn't the whimpering, pathetic bastard he'd been acting like.  Maybe it was time to call up a bit of the old him.  The one she... well not liked but at least she'd respected him. None of those side-long glances of pity he was currently getting treated to. 

_Respect.__ Now's there a thing in short supply these days. ****_

It was only some fucking flowers. Would it have killed them to take the fucking things? Not even about her this time, no matter what that cardboard wanna-be thought. It was about respect. **__**

Time was**_, _**they would have cowered at his name not kicked him to the curb like yesterday's garbage. Bloody lap dog was what he'd become. Fetch this, carry that, kill the other, all so that for one brief second 'miss holiness and light' would pull the stick out of her ass and say thank you. **__**

A loud snort rang in his ear and it took Spike a moment to realize it had come from him.

_Thank you. Not bloody likely. She wouldn't spit on him if he was on fire._

He should just get out while he still had a chance. Least before the hell bitch got her claws in the Nibblet and the world went all****to hell. Find some nice bint and shag away his last days on earth.

Should do...won't. And why not? Cause he was a bloody wanker s'why. Pull his heart from his chest if she asked and watch happily as she stomped on the pieces. 

He ran a hand through his hair and patted his pockets for another smoke. 

Should have just gone home. But noooo. Had to play the hero and patrol 'cause she wouldn't be fit. 

Oh she wasn't fit, all right. Hard to stake the nasties when you're snogging with one in the graveyard. 

Speaking of stakes being shoved up asses, what the hell was the bloody poof doing here anyway?  

And she was just eating it up with a spoon, she was. How come she forgets so easily that he of the perfect hair had once tried to destroy the world and then, just for kicks, ran out on her with his tail between his legs? 

_Hell-bloody-lo! _

Of course, that just gets swept under the carpet for Sir Broodiness, but you try to kill her once or twice and that'll haunt you forever.

Oh, he'd be gone again. Sure as the sun rises, he and his noble ass would be back in LA while she sits here trying to muddle through the day-to-day. **__**

Spike slowly unclenched his fingers from the ragged edges of glass and wiped them against his pants as he rose. His gaze fell on the one figurine that had escaped his moment of destruction. The light from the streetlamps touched it softly, a glow surrounding it like a halo. He shook his head at the irony. It was one of those Greek god types. The hunter one. Artemis. If ever there was a patron saint of Slayers, that was her. 

Within moments he was back on the street, walking slowly towards home, caressing his new trophy with trembling hands. 

She needed him. She didn't know it or wouldn't accept it but she needed him. No one else was there for her. Not really, not someone to really lean on, strong, supportive, someone to just do things for her. He could do that, he could, she'd never let him, but he could. 

_I'm always here. She doesn't see it but I'm always here._

_I'd take such good care of her._

_Why won't she let me? _

_What!? No. Not this time, Spike. You chained me up in a basement! Threatened to feed me to your ex-girlfriend! So I wasn't big with the warm fuzzies. What did you expect?! Oh! Let's not forget, you made me into a sex bot...I mean..._

Buffy was still ranting when the next image slammed up against her psyche. 

_She burned through him like the fires of hell and all points in between...not that he had a soddin clue what the hell that meant but it sounded pretty enough._

Every now and again the dead poet raised his poncy head and took a peek. Happened too bloody often for his own good these days. Dead poet. Made him think of that movie with the hairy fellow...which made him think of Dru. She'd forced him to go watch it, enraptured with the tragedy of it all. Bloody ponces is what they were, dying before they ever had a chance to live and for what? Nothing good, nothing real, that's what. That movie made him uncomfortable to this day. Dru'd never said it but he could see it sparkling behind her mad eyes; those blokes reminded her of him. Made him wonder if she'd got what she bargained for. What had she called him? A shining knight? A tarnished soul bathed in blood**_, _**more like it. Well, not at first, but he'd learned. He'd tried to be what his dark princess needed, tried to be as vicious and cunning as her daddy. Never quite the same though, never quite measured up. Who knows? Maybe she hadn't wanted that all. Maybe she really had wanted the quiet poet who'd willingly die on her slightest whim. 

_Well you can't have both you, fickle bitch. _

Spike slowly relaxed his muscles. Now was not the time to wax over the inner workings of his psychotic ex. Especially not now. Not when the current psychotic bitch of his heart was rolling her hips in that way he loved. 

With a finger that trembled a bit too much for his liking, he rolled his fingertips down the smooth arc of her spine. Beads of sweat glistened in the glow of the candles, reminding him of tears dripping slowly down her back, gathering in a small pool at the base. She was working for this one. Hard. There was really no need. He could have done all this for her and relished in the task but she was all about the punishment. Had come up with some scattered notion that if she had to push and torture herself then enjoying the ending was...well it was just par for the course with her type. Martyrs. Never would take the easy way of things. 

The muscles in her back corded and shivered at his touch and he dropped his fingers to the floor, bracing his hands and watching her writhe on top of him. With the smallest of movements, as if to avoid detection, he flexed his toes and legs to relieve the ache of muscles splayed out straight for too long. Trapped beneath her lithe frame, he contemplated the minor grunts and gasps escaping her lips.  She hated that part. She'd be much happier if she never had to give voice to the slightest iota of satisfaction. That was probably why he took such a sadistic pleasure in every sound he could coax out. 

Sadist. She'd called him that. When you got down to it though, it was much more her title than his. These days anyway. He knew what he was. Told her in so many words. An itch she couldn't scratch. A means to an end. Was he complaining? Noooo. And why wasn't he? Simple, really, when all was said and done, he'd never had her. Not really. Her body? Sure. Her mind, her spirit, the essence of Buffy? Not a chance in hell. Somewhere in that convoluted little mind she felt it though, the reason he was here. The purpose in his life. The tiny little ember of maybe. Maybe someday he'd be more than a convenience. Maybe. **__**

He wasn't completely off his bird, he could see it. Every so often, and only when he was buried so deep inside that a breath of air couldn't have slipped between them, he knew that someday she'd see...him. Those moments were the best and the worst seconds of his existence. Her face...would glow with the barest hint of things that could be and then...then she'd spit in his face. 

Kinda like now. 

It had taken days of planning and work to make it right. A bit of an idyllic dream. A breath of an idea to make her happy, if only for a night.  Call it a honeymoon for the girl who would never see the wedding. Champagne was chilled just right, bits of wispy lace and silk engulfed every surface. Hell, he'd stolen enough flowers and candles to fill a church. The irony of that was not lost on him. She'd thrown it all back in his face. Laughed at his moment of whimsy and demanded they get down to the reason she'd come. The only reason she'd willingly spend her time with the monster that haunted her thighs if not her dreams. **__**

She'd refused his kisses or anything remotely resembling a soft touch. And he'd let her. Heaven help him, he let her do anything and everything she wanted. Just so long as she didn't leave. 

He tried so very hard to make love to her...to make her love him. Whispered soft words into her skin; she punched him in the mouth. Caressed her cheek; she dug her nails in his chest. One look at the antique lace and silky froth of sheets and the bed had been deemed off limits. So now he was on the floor, forced to watch as she took. **__**

She wouldn't even look at him. Not after he'd broken the sacred rule and uttered those three little words guaranteed to make her crawl inside her inner sanctum never to return, at least not until she'd convinced herself, yet again that every word he uttered was a lie. But she'd stayed this time. Found herself a solution she could live with. 

It was easy to fuck a nightmare when it wasn't staring you in the face. **__**

On her knees, legs spread apart as far as she could make them, forehead pressed tightly into the footboard her fingers were curled around, rocking and swaying in time to the demons in her mind and the one she allowed in her body. Penance.

He wasn't allowed to touch. Just sit back like a gentleman at tea and watch her take what she wanted from the only bit of flesh on him that she could control. 

She was so bloody stupid sometimes. **__**

Couldn't she see there was not one part of him, body, mind or spirit that wasn't hers for the taking? His flesh practically screamed,  'mold me, make me what you want, whatever you need'. 

It was a rather ironic kind of whimsy that every woman who took his heart didn't really know what to do with it. **__**

He was getting so very tired of trying to decide for them. 

Flesh, blood, the ending and the beginning, both as unclear as the other and he couldn't take the distance anymore. 

Moving forward slightly, he stole a tiny drop of moisture from her back onto the tip of his tongue. Just a taste, the tiniest sip of her essence. She didn't like that and he knew she wouldn't. How could she pretend with her life-sized vibrator if it moved without permission?****

 Her body stiffened and the rhythm was interrupted. Well, fuck her. He wasn't a toy as much as she made him feel and act like one. 

He sat forward abruptly, wrapped his arms around her unyielding waist and buried his face between her shoulders. 

"I'm here, pet. Whether you like it or not, I'm here."**__**

She didn't speak. He didn't know why he thought she would. No, not his masochistic bitch. She just dropped her hand between their bodies and squeezed one of his balls so tightly, he wondered if it would pop off into her fist. 

A scream rose in his throat but he swallowed it down and dug his fingers into her flat belly until she was forced to cry out and let go. **__**

The war began for real then. The only sound between them was the harsh pitch of her labored breathing and the noticeable absence of his. He stayed locked to her back in a twisted parody of a lovers embrace. There was no love here. Not today. But come hell or high water, even if she refused to see him, she was going to feel him.**__**

As if it meant nothing, as if he meant nothing, she started moving again. He wanted to rip her off and throw her across the room. Instead he tightened his grip and held her in place as a helpless rage rose harshly in his chest. She was never going to let him be anything to her...ever. Nothing but this. It****was just a step up from hell and a few short feet from heaven. Bones shifted beneath his skin; he made no attempt to stop it. If she wanted to ignore him then it was time she figured out exactly what she was letting lurk behind her back. It was all well and good to know you're fucking a monster but another thing entirely when you had to look it in the face. 

"Do it then."

Spike blinked and lifted his face a fraction, ears straining to catch her quiet whisper of words. 

"It's what you want, right? So do it and get it over with so we don't have to play this stupid game again." 

He stared at the line of her neck. She still wouldn't look at him. Even when she offered what should have been something sacred for them to share, she wouldn't look at him.  "Why's that, luv? So you can flog your conscience a bit more? Pull the scars out on your mission of self pity as a sign of how low you've let yourself be drug?"

Her shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug. "Only another scar that I'll forget like the rest, like I'll forget you. Just figured you needed payment or something."  **__**

He could have quite easily ripped her head from her shoulders. One quick snap and it'd all be over. His hands clenched on her skin and she straightened her spine, waiting for his next move. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. Could he do it? Give her a mark she'd never be able to erase and bury under a river of contempt? Could he give her another reason to hate him?

You bet your ass he could.

The spot was chosen with careful consideration. It was a place that would remain unseen by her pious friends, somewhere she'd have to make an effort to assess the damage.  Even now, he just wanted her to make an effort. She'd examine it at home, safe from his prying eyes,****and she'd stack it up in that wide chest of self-loathing she carried around with her. **__**

With a swipe of his tongue, he let her know his intentions. He'd do it slow and easy, with a minimum of pain. It wasn't about the blood...well, maybe a little, but that was just an added bonus. She couldn't forget him after this. A part of her, no matter how small, would belong to him. 

At the first slide of fangs on flesh she began to move, the pace of her body matching the flow of her blood. Tears clung to his lashes as he realized his newest in a long line of mistakes. Instead of this being the moment she truly accepted him man and demon, she'd discovered another punishing way to get herself off. Less than a teaspoon had passed his lips when her thrusts picked up speed. Stilling the flow with his tongue, he clung to her back and held on as she rode the wave without him, pulling farther and farther away into her own world. A world he wasn't allowed to enter.   **__**

With a sharp gasp and a slight shudder**_, _**it was over. She slumped forward, clinging to the edge of the bed as if his arms weren't still there steadying her body. Achingly slow, he withdrew his teeth, wanting her to feel each and every slide of bone on skin but still compensating with tiny cat-like strokes of his tongue against the wound.  When she was stable, he released his hold on her waist and sat up. Her shoulders rolled with the gasps of air she drew into her body and it took him a moment to decipher that she was crying without the benefit of tears. His arms ached to encircle her again,****to****hold her against his chest, rub her back, kiss away all the pain...but she would never let him. That wasn't his purpose. He could do nothing but watch as her body shuddered before him. So he did the only thing he could. 

One slow tear dripped from his eyes and fell on her skin. It ran over the piece of flesh he'd claimed as his own, pooling for a moment before continuing its endless journey. 

His mark, carved into a place it would burn. Tucked almost secretly in the curve of her shoulder blade, resting behind her heart; the place she made him stay. **__**

She couldn't see anymore. Not because the vision had faded, though it had, but because the strength of the tears blocking her sight****were just too much. 

Residual emotions crawled over her flesh; fear, pain...and disgust, the latter at herself. Disgust that she had forgotten. 

She didn't remember any of it, not really. The scar had been shrugged off as insignificant, a payment to her degradation, nothing more. 

But it should have been. 

There should have been more. More her, more him, just...more. He should have left. Should have packed up and ran with whatever shred of dignity he could muster. Anyone else would have- she would have. Not Spike, though. Even after all that, he had stayed. He wouldn't ever give up on someone he loved. 

Until...**__**

Who forced who that night? **__**

Buffy shook her head as light teased the edges of her vision. The loud thrum of an engine raced over her skin and she felt herself falling back in. 

She had a last chance for a horrified gasp as the scene unfolded.

 _Not this. I can't do this. Not yet. Please, not yet. _

He had to quit with the tears. Made it bloody impossible to see the road. Not that he didn't know the way with his eyes shut but it was the principle of the thing. Big Bads do not cry.

Not that he was anywhere close to the Big Bad he'd once been. Any attempt to reclaim the title had just left a sour taste in his mouth. Not that she noticed. You could wrap up things all nice and neat shove em' right under her nose and she'd look right through it...look right through him. 

_Get over it. Move on. Sure, Buffy. Whatever you want, Buffy. Easy as bloody pie. _

Right up until a bloke does move on, then it's all 'how could you do that?'

He'd done it right, hadn't he? 

Jump, Spike. How high, Buffy? 

Kill your own kind, Spike. With a stake or an axe, Buffy?

Fuck me, Spike. On my back or on my knees, Buffy?

He had to make her understand, once and for all, that he couldn't keep living in this neat little box she'd stuck him in. Never had been one for walking on eggshells and he'd tip-toed through the mine zone of her heart one too many times. She said it was over and right now she believed it, but her reactions to Anya were the truth. It would never be over. Not while they both still walked the earth. 

She could pretend all she wanted. Knowing her, she'd go off and fall all over the first idiot with a mortgage and a car just to spite him. If she thought for one second that he was going to sit by and watch her fawn all over some useless git, she had another thing coming. She was his. Whether she liked it or not. 

The bike rolled to a stop. Spike cut the engine staring up at the slim light peeking from her house.

They had to talk. Had to get this over with. Today.

He walked calmly through the door, shrugging off his coat. 

_Deep breaths, mate. That's how to get through this. Easy. Calm. She'll see the truth. She will. Just has to be told plain and clear s'all. _

She had to see. This time she had to realize what she was doing, even if he had to shove the ugly truth so far down her throat she choked on.

Laying his coat on the banister, he walked carefully up the stairs. **__**

"Buffy."

"Buffy, Wake up."

Buffy rolled with the arm pulling at her shoulder. Twisting in the strong grasp, she choked out the words stuck in her lungs.  "Not this. Not this. Not this." 

"Buffy, look at me. Look. At. Me."

Buffy pried open an eye and winced as light slashed through.

A halo of red erupted in her vision and she blinked to clear the mirage. It was still there.

"Willow?" The trembling quality of her own voice scraped across her skin like cut glass and she pushed her face against the soft hand cupping it. 

"Hey, you okay?"

Buffy pulled her gaze from the quirk of Willow's eyebrow and the utter compassion shining from her eyes to take in her surrounding. She was under a tree in an idyllic meadow. The breeze was warm on her face and the sweet scent of flowers drifted on the air. **__**

"It isn't that I'm not appreciating the hallmarkish-ness****of this moment but, where are we?"

Willow looked around while a bemused smile spread across her lips. She waved her hand airily. "Somewhere between here and there."

Just as Buffy was about to start checking for evidence of pod people, Willow focused with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Pretty cool innit?" 

"Yeah, great...umm...how did I get here? And while we're on the subject...you know you're dead, right?"

"Well," Willow said, raising her fingers as if to tick off points. "You're here cause I kinda high-jacked you and yes, I know I'm dead...pretty much." 

Buffy raised a brow. "Pretty much? You fell off a cliff, Will. I'd say that's a few jumps past pretty much. And don't think I'm not grateful, cause really not wanting to be where I was, but high-jacked?"

Willow started twisting the ribbons on the skirt she wore. "High-jacked, you know, stole, kidnapped, bamboozled...no, that's not right-"

Buffy made a grab for Willow's hands, trying to still the obviously-nervous witch. "I get it, relax, and since you're obviously two-stepping around that first question, let's just deal with the other." At Willow's grateful look, Buffy took a deep breath and expelled it in a rush of words. "Am I dead?" 

"Oh! No! You're alive, very much so, it's just that...I thought you'd seen enough. Others," Buffy raised a brow at the eye roll and grimace accompanying the word 'others',  "They thought you should have to see it all but I told them that you weren't nearly as hard-headed as some people seem to think, even though sometimes you're really too stubborn for your own good but-"****

"Willow!" Buffy waited until the witches' gaze was focused and tempered her voice accordingly. "Point?"

"Right! The point! Do you get it? Please tell me you do because I really don't want to send you back in there."

"Which point would that be? The one where I'm a heartless bitch and Spike is this poor**_, _**misunderstood guy or the one where I went through some really shitty stuff and he hung around trying to get his piece of the pie...umm...that came out wrong."

Willow shook her head and smiled. "Both, actually. Let's walk. You're always more perceptive when you're moving." **__**

Buffy struggled to her feet. "I'm still not sure why this happening to begin with. I mean, this isn't even about me, or about Spike for that matter. We just got caught in the crossfire."

Willow tucked their arms together and pulled Buffy into motion. "Well that's true...in a way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means a lot of things. It means that things happen without your control. No matter how hard you try to stop them, some things are just...meant."**__**

"No offence, Will, but that's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard."**__**

****

Willow shrugged, toeing the ground as they walked. "I thought so too, but when you see the big picture**_, _**all this makes a whole lotta sense."

Buffy threw her hands in the air. She took a deep breath, trying to assemble all the events of the past couple of days in her mind. "What is the big picture! And when did you start talking in riddles?"

"Sorry." Willow grinned, sheepishly. "It kinda rubs off on you." Tilting her head, she watched Buffy for a few minutes before blurting out, "You want the straight, no holds barred, truth?"

"That would be nice change of pace."

Willow stopped and grabbed Buffy's hands. The intensity of her gaze ripped through Buffy and burned a hole in her gut. **__**

"You. Me. Everything that has been and everything to come, it was meant to be. The path has taken some wrong turns but every time that has happened the change has been calculated and set back on the inevitable road."

Buffy nodded slowly, the perfect picture of an insightful person. Then she opened her mouth. "So help me god, Willow, best friend or no, the word prophecy comes out of your mouth and I will lay you flat."

Willow backed up a step, waving her hands. "No, it's not even like that. You're supposed to be...you're going to...someday you'll..."

Buffy clamped a hand across the babbling witch's mouth. "Again with the no sense making."

"Mffph."

Buffy sighed and reluctantly dropped her hand, knowing that as soon as she did the words would come burbling up again from the endless font that was Willow, not knowing if she really wanted to deal with what was coming. 

For a moment, silence stretched between them, a world of past secrets whispered under the cover of dark laid open in a wide chasm between them. Both wondered how to jump the breach. Both wondered if they could. With a long sigh of regret for mistakes that could never be changed, Willow dropped her eyes and opened her mouth. 

"I wish I could explain it, but all I can really tell you is that it won't always be like this. There is a point.  All this stuff has happened for a reason."

Buffy shook her head. There was too much in that loaded statement to comprehend. She latched onto to the one fall back that she only now realized she clung to in times like this. "There is no reason for Spike."

Willow's head shot up, disbelief and something like anger stretching her features. "You don't really believe that. Inside, you know you don't."

Buffy flinched as much from the words as from the look. Scrambling frantically in her mind, she searched for a way to change the subject. "So what, I have some all powerful destiny, you know, other than the all powerful destiny I'm already fulfilling."

_Ahh__ yes, sarcasm is my friend. _

"Not just you."

Buffy stared at her for a moment and then shrugged. When something works, use it. "Wait, don't tell me, Spike and I are going to become super heroes and freeze the bad guys with our x-ray vision. That's it, isn't it."

The glare she received in response could have froze lava. Buffy bit her tongue on the large rampage she'd been planning and let Willow continue.

"It's like this. There are two entirely different ways this could go. On the one hand, stay tucked inside your Buffy bubble, move ahead in your life, maybe even meet someone and you'll be happy in your own way but...if you let Spike in, your world as you know it will cease to exist. It's a chance Buffy, a chance to be more than you could ever be alone. "

"When the hell did you climb aboard the Spike train? Last I knew he was public enemy number one."

"You think you're the only one with a pass to his memories."

Buffy colored slightly as the implications set in. "Go ahead."

"I've seen some of what is coming and you can't handle it..."

Buffy opened her mouth to protest but Willow cut her off. 

"...you won't have to, if you choose to go it alone someone else will take over the fight. You'll still be _a _slayer but you will never be _the_ slayer."

"You keep saying choice. I've never had a choice before, why now?"

"Eventually, everyone gets to choose. It's your turn."

"My turn? So if I say no and get out while the getting's good, who does this great thing? Faith?"

"No, there is someone already in place. Course, she doesn't know it yet..."

"What, they're going to put some poor untrained girl up against...what are we talking about exactly?"

"Oh, she's trained. She's been in training for almost eighty years."

"No offence, but if this as bad as you're making it sound**_, _**'grandma' is not going to cut it. If it's a vampire then best of luck trying to convince them to save the world. There are very few exceptions to that rule and..."

Buffy ran out of steam as the big picture smacked her in the face. 

 "You're talking about Rain, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I can see that. She's good, smart and resourceful. So what happens to Spike? He and his ho go riding off into the sunset?"

Willow suddenly took great interest in the cuffs of her shirt. "Umm not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly.?"

Buffy had to bend to catch the next mumbled words. "Spike was always meant to be there. He's the reason all this has come to pass."

"Spike! Spike is the hero! Which one of the Powers went on a bender and woke up with that brainchild?"**__**

"Actually, he was chosen for this long before you were. But just like you, he kept falling off the path. That's not important though. This is your last chance, Buffy. It ends or it begins here."**__**

"You can't expect me to just decide this. You're talking life-altering decisions, not whether I want ketchup or mustard. Besides which, I was in the middle of something before I got zapped into...wherever the hell this is. Some psycho morphy guy is trying to get Spike to kill me, his bitch just betrayed us all, I got sucked into watching things I had no business knowing about and I am getting a really bad headache! So, sorry if discussing the ramifications of a decision with my dead best friend, who last I saw was trying to destroy the world and who is now glowing, which, very pretty by the way, is not exactly high on my list of priorities!"

"Are you done?"

'No!...Yes...maybe. I don't know. Can't we keep this simple, like you tell me how I kill the bad guy?"

"That's not up to you."

Buffy threw her hands in her air. "Arrggh! Then what the hell am I doing here?"

"I told you-"

"I know to decide." Buffy dropped her face in her hands. "I liked you better before you started sounding like a fortune cookie."

Willow ducked her head in a grin and pulled Buffy into a hug. "It's time to go back. Just follow your heart, you'll know what to do."

Buffy raised a brow and looked at her. "Now we're quoting Disney movies?" 

"I love you, Buffy."

"I love you too."

Willow watched the last golden remnants of Buffy fade and jumped guiltily as a hand clamped down on her arm. 

"What the hell was that crap?"

Willow turned to face her silver counterpart. "I told you she's stubborn. I had to tell her something."

At the elegantly arched silver eyebrow, Willow flushed as red as her hair. "Well it was sort of true. Some parts anyway."

"This had better work."

"It will...it might...there's a good fifty-fifty chance it will."

"Well I suppose that's better than what we had before. Honestly though, I don't know how they picked you to replace me. Atonement is all well and good but your methods really leave something to be desired."

"You're just pissed because my methods are working. Maybe they picked me because I'm...innovative."

"Pushing a vampire out a window is innovative?" Was the dry reply. 

"He was being stubborn."

"Whatever," Sage said with a flick of her wrist, "It's my turn and that little stunt you just pulled had better get results or all this is going to be for nothing soon."

"What are you going to do?"

"You'll see." 


	12. The beginning and the end 3

It surrounded him, blanketing his chest, his thighs, winding between his toes and trailing over his fingers. 

Water.

Spike sighed contently and ran a finger through the shallow waves engulfing him. He didn't know how he got here, didn't rightly care. It was...peaceful, unlike the current harshness of reality. The red edges of sunset peeked and prodded at his closed eyes and he squeezed them tight until all was dark. 

Not a slip, not a whisper, the absence of light and the hell it brought to heart and mind. 

Rolling to his stomach, he reveled in the warmth it reminded him of the surface of a lake after a long hot summer day. With a brief stroke of one arm, he lazily trailed his hand up and down, marveling at the silkiness as the drops that slipped through his fingers. Opening his mouth he caught the slight tang of salt as his mouth filled with the life giving elixir of the sea. It was sweet and potent, rushing through his veins, blanketing his mind, almost like...blood. 

Rolling his hand in widening circles, he was momentarily startled by a slight catch as something glide over his fingers. He was mildly disturbed that he had to share his haven, if only with something as inconspicuous as sea weed but shook it as the substance flowed through his fingers like the soft caress of a women's hair. 

Then, as all the best dreams do, his surroundings changed as if to pull him physically from his delightful slumber. The temperature of the water started to cool abruptly and the easy waves kicked up rocking against his body in a fit of temper. Spike sighed, now he could hear voices jabbing at his mind trying to entice him to the surface with their harshly ringing tones.  He briefly considered letting his body become heavy and sink further but into the dream but he knew on a subconscious level that it was no use. Whatever was up there on the surface would reach in and pull him out whether he liked it or not. Best to just get it over with, with a sharp kick, Spike began the journey upwards to air and life and the inevitable harshness of reality.

A sharp cry of panic shot through his limbs when his legs refused to move and his mouth filled with a  noxious sewage, choking him. Kicking hard, he felt a force from below wrap around his knee and immobilize it. He tried to push at it with his hand but something had tangled around his wrist. The water was pitching him about in a frenzy, squeezing at his throat and thrashing about his body. He fought back, punching and kicking with the full force of his strength, slowly making his way to the surface. When at last Spike shot through he threw his head back and opened his mouth trying to expel the gallons of water trapped in his throat. His eyes finally opened and all he could see was red.

Everything was covered in wave after wave of deep scarlet hues, it lent the atmospheric effect of blood cascading down the walls, over the floor and across the ceiling. Blinking twice, he could do nothing but stare dumbly at the wall inches from his face and take a few moments to decipher what exactly was going on. It was a toss up how long he would stayed in that position but something sharp jabbed in his side and with it brought the realization that the walls may or may not be covered in blood but his mouth was surely full of it. 

With a startled gasp, he wrenched his fangs out of the flesh they were imbedded in and stared shocked at the puncture wounds inches from his eyes. The world took on even more of a surreal glow as one odd drop of crimson slipped off his tooth and crashed down to meld inconspicuously with the steady stream of blood dripping slowly from his victim's neck. The sight caused his fingers to spasm, whether from delight or horror he couldn't be sure, but he did note that his previous fascination with sea weed was proven verified as one of his hands was wrapped in waves and waves of blonde hair. Mind you it was to wrench this particular persons head to the side, obscuring her face and baring her jugular rather than the caress he'd supposed but all in all, soft girly hair. 

Spike jammed his eyes shut. 

_What in the bloody hell is wrong with me! Girly hair? Sea weed? And where did all this waxy poetic dribble come from. What the fuck is going on? _

"Oh god...Spike."

The heartfelt cry had him tearing his sight away from the macabre fare filling his vision and mind. He fell****straight into Rain's wide tear soaked green eyes. Tilting his head in bewilderment at the inexplicable anguish in their depths, he glanced over to Ian with the idea that maybe he knew why Rain was so upset. Ian wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to Spike's predicament, however. At the moment he seemed much concerned with restraining a squirming Rain.  His arm was locked tight around her waist and his face was buried in her hair whispering something. Spike narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the snatches of some mantra that Ian was clinging to.

_"It's not him. It's not him. It's not him." Well that makes not one wit of sense. _

Sound started to filter through to his disoriented mind and another voice joined the melee in his head. Tearing his gaze from his oddly-acting friends, he scanned the rest of the room's occupants.  Rain's brother was leaning against a table with his arms crossed over his chest. A disgruntled expression marred his features as he endeavored to ignore...Spike's gaze shifted over the length of the table...Tasha. Where Cainen's posture oozed casual arrogance, Tasha's portrayed the polar opposite. Her fingernails dug viscously into the edge of the wooden table as she leaned halfway over it, hissing through clenched teeth at Cainen. 

Shaking his head, Spike dropped his gaze to the table itself. Two glass balls rested there, one crimson and one black.  He connected the room's illumination with the blinding glow that emitted from the red one. But the black seemed to be essentially dormant, at least until he peered closer and whatever the black substance was that filled the orb moved and writhed with a life of its own. Wrenching his gaze away, he returned his focus to Rain and Ian who hadn't accomplished much while his interest had been otherwise occupied. She was still pulling at his arm trying to get free. He opened his mouth to tell Ian to just bloody well let her go when he caught a brief glimpse of leather entangling their wrists together. 

The sight of the restraint sent a message to his mind and he immediately felt a sharp pull and chafe on his own wrist. Once the initial physical reminder of his position was asserted the rest came fast and furious, bombarding his senses. The slight brush of a woman's breast against his chest, the firmness of the thighs he rested between and the harsh rattle of breath from lips that were inches from his ear. 

Spike willed his head to turn and see the face he'd avoided until now. Though he didn't see the point; he knew who was beneath him. It was a simple process of elimination. 

One brow rose in puzzled fascination at the peaceful serenity covering her face. She was out cold, but still breathing. Taking her chin in his hand he roughly turned her head from side to side seeking a response. 

Nothing.

He dropped his hand slowly, pulling his upper body away and fought a growing sense of horror as her head lolled limply to the side.  He should be ecstatic, number three, a flawless record. Even now her blood sung in his veins, making him strong, making him more real than he'd been in years, but all he could feel was a sharp ache in the region of his heart. 

_What has she done to me? _ Was his first thought, followed swiftly by the knowledge that the statement carried a disturbing tang of familiarity. It was with a with a filmy sense of surrealism that he dropped his face into the curve of her neck. "Buffy." Came spilling out of his mouth in choked gasp, mixing with the ever dripping blood and salt of his tears. 

Buffy peeked open the slimmest edge of her eyelid and glared at the demonic strobe light dragging her away from sweet oblivion and Willow.  She was getting just the teeny tiniest bit tired of getting knocked unconscious and a whole hell of a lot tired at getting dragged back up.  Internally grumbling against the inevitable, she made a mental list of things that needed to be done. 

_1) Kick Caniens' ass._

_2) Rip Tasha's skanky, lying, probably pierced, tongue out. _A devious smile rolled over lips on that one. 

_3) Make Rain stop crying. _The sound was getting on her nerves. 

_4) Get the dead weight off her chest._

_5) Sleep until she was sixty. _

_Whoa, back up a step there. _

Opening her eyes she stared at the black leather encompassing her vision. 

_Black leather...dead weight...and the Oscar goes to..._

"Spike," she groaned as his mass threatened to cut off her air supply. Her voice was muffled against the fabric on his shoulder and it came out more along the lines of 'smuffk'. Not easily deterred, she shoved as his shoulder with her free hand. It briefly occurred to her that her normal strength wasn't quite up to par but that thought got lost in the shuffle as his body jerked and she found herself staring into golden eyes. 

Their gazes locked for a minute. The world seemed to end and begin in those precious sixty seconds. She'd never seen anyone regard her with such a degree of hope and relief before. Okay, maybe she had but not with the accompanying fangs and ridged features. Before she could ask what was up, the world chose to right itself and certain area of her body demanded attention. A suspiciously sticky residue slid off her neck and she could feel more matting in her hair. Bucking her body up, air came rushing into her lungs and she started to cough uncontrollably. She stared wide-eyed at Spike, trying to process what her body was screaming and her mind was vehemently denying. 

She stared blindly at his ridged forehead, shaking her head in defiance.

_No. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He loves me. I know he does. He wouldn't do...this._

Even as she tried desperately to convince her heart, the logic of her mind screamed its own truths. 

_He could. He would. He did. Spike tried to kill you, when you couldn't defend yourself. He's a vampire and nothing will change that. _

 Over and over her mind chanted its diatribe, flinging vicious accusations at her heart. Helpless to refute the damning evidence, Buffy's body rebelled against the assault, punching and clawing like a demonic hell cat. Spike rolled off of her with the force of the attack, enabling Buffy to reach her knees. She crawled swiftly forward, staring at the floor, trying not to let the sob clawing at her throat out, but was brought up short by the length of leather keeping them connected. 

"Buffy."

Her head shot up at the sound of her name and she stared dazedly at Rain a few feet away.

"Buffy, he didn't mean to, he didn't know what he was doing. It wasn't him." 

Before she could respond, a loud snort cut through the room. Buffy jumped as her chin was grasped and Cainen filled her view. 

She stared up at his eyes with a mixture of awe and fear. Gone were the deep green orbs she had become accustomed to. In their place was an endless abyssof crimson marred slightly by deep, churning pools of black. The demonic presence completely obliterated any human characteristics. She shivered as a wave of pure malice emanated from him and washed over her. 

She couldn't speak, couldn't move, could do nothing but watch and listen as his aristocratic tones invaded her psyche. 

"My sister is blind. Even now, when I've ripped apart her carefully constructed self-deceits, she still believes." The word 'believes' was spat to the ground like he couldn't stand to hold it in his mouth. "But not you...Slayer, you know the evil that lurks under that pretty surface, how it consumes and rots everything it touches until you're nothing but a shell." His hand moved over her cheek in a light caress.  "You've tasted the darkness...and it has tainted your soul." 

A slight whimper ricocheted through the room. Buffy choked on the sound as his words dripped into her heart like acid.

"My sister, despite my efforts, will never learn such a valuable lesson and now she will have to face the consequences. Don't subject yourself to the same pain, Buffy. Purge yourself of this insanity; cleanse your spirit before it's too late. You know what you have to do. What must be done...Slayer." **__**

Buffy's mind went utterly and completely blank. She could see Rain's mouth moving as she turned back the way she'd come but it was of no significance now. Snatches of conversation reached her ears but never fully penetrated.

"Controlling your mind."

"Not the plan."

All endless chatter was pushed to the way side as her vision focused on one purpose. _Her_ purpose, her _duty, her __calling.  Everything faded to the reassuring sound of her blood pumping and swelling in her veins, giving her life; the life he'd tried to steal from her. **__**_

The excess bits of leather that trapped her to a monster wound through her fingers of its own accord. There was just enough length remaining to fulfill her intention. It was simply going through the motions as the hard but malleable substance formed a noose. Her body flipped and curled over and around itself, spinning almost majestically in the air, instinctively following a dance done to music permanently ingrained into her limbs. She landed in such a way that she was in the perfect position behind her enemy and the noose slipped over the demon's head like it belonged. Coiling her fingers into a fist, she pulled the leather taught and twisted her wrists so that the vice tightened and began to pull with all the strength her muscles would produce. That done, her body took over the process and let a glimmer of her conscious mind emerge. 

Buffy's vision lurched and she stared, somewhat fascinated, at the red swell of his skin as it bulged over and around the restraint. The voices were back...screaming. She could pick out the different pitches and inflections and separate them into people. Rain, Ian, even Tasha, screaming and yelling about...something. Buffy sighed, wanting to yell, add her voice to the mix, tell them to shut up, couldn't they see she was busy right now.  But they wouldn't get it, they didn't understand who she was, what a Slayer was, so she held her tongue and let her mind wander, blocking out the excess as best she could. 

_Spike would never start yelling while she was fighting. _

She mentally added that to the million and one things she could honestly say she was grateful to him for. He knew his job, knew how to help and when to back off...mostly. Little things started to filter into her consciousness, like she should remember to thank him later for staying quiet while she did her job. She briefly wondered where he was but shrugged it off immediately. He was probably getting it done. She could trust him at times like this, he'd make them be quiet. She stared at her fingers and leaned in closer to inspect one nail that desperately needed to be filed. Spike's scent filled her nose, leather, smoke and mints. A slight smile curved her mouth as the smell engulfed her. Focusing she brought his image to her mind, she'd noticed earlier the way his hair curled just so at the nape of his neck when he'd put his coat back on.  His roots needed a touch up, maybe she'd offer to do it for him later...in a strictly friendship way. Cause they were friends right? Or they _could_ be friends...right? Long ago words slammed against her, drummed up from the depths of her memory. _You'll never be friends. _ Buffy shook it off as the body of the demon she was strangling slumped forward. With a twist and a yank, she'd pulled hard enough back, her arms stretching towards the roof, to keep it standing. Spike always helped keep her upright, even when she wanted nothing more than to sink into the dirt, he kept her standing, kept her going. A blur of color to her right pulled at her attention and she turned her head slightly to see what was up. **__**

It was kind of funny. Cainen was kneeling over on a wailing and screaming Tasha, restraining her with the weight of his body. Meanwhile Rain and Ian had their bonds stretched between them and wrapped around Cainen's throat. It seemed like they were trying to pop his head off like a bottle cap. That in itself was not so amusing, the funny came in at the look on Cainen's face as he tried simultaneously to fend of Rain and Ian, rip the leather off his throat and hold down Tasha as they both reached for the final contents on a table; a little black ball. 

Multi-tasking was not his forte. 

Buffy glanced around trying to locate Spike, a slight giggle escaping her throat. He'd get the joke. Always did, always there, always helping, always...Spike. Not Angel, not Riley, not...anyone, always Spike. 

A loud, inhuman wail ripped through the room and Buffy blinked, her attention immediately ensnared by the drama enfolding. Ian was holding Cainen down on top of Tasha, his head rammed into the floor beside hers and their bodies twisted together like a parody of lovers. Rain stood over them a red orb in hand, Buffy crinkled her nose trying to decipher what was happening. Before she could process the events, Rain smashed the orb down on Cainen's head. The impact of the glass smashing rushed through the room with the effect of a nuclear blast, tossing Buffy's body like a ship caught at sea. Smashing against a wall, she slid limply to the ground as wave after wave of red energy was dragged from her mind to return to its source. A pain-coated scream rent the eerie silence as Cainen's body was lifted in the air by a dizzying display of red light and black whirlpools. He regained his footing for a moment but was swiftly brought to his knees as a thousand fissures erupted on his skin, spewing black oil. **__**

Buffy's mouth fell open in equal parts shock and disgust at the sight and she felt her stomach rebel as blood began flowing out of his eyes, mouth, nose and ears.  She trembled as he clawed at his face and cringed when the maelstrom of light reorganized itself, no longer content to inflict surface injuries. There was a moment of deadly silence and then a strange rushing sound as the cloud of energy dove angrily at his body engulfing him and absorbing into the various wounds. 

For a moment, Cainen found his feet. Then, his body bent back on itself. Within moments his head was thrown back and his jaw stretched wide in a scream without sound.****With a subtle pop, his entire body imploded inward and disintegrated into nothing. 

There was no sound in the room for many minutes., save the harsh guttural rattle of the two human occupants.

A harsh cramp finally climbed up Buffy's leg and she shifted her foot to accommodate it. Dropping her eyes to check the position of her legs, she felt her throat seize up in horror at the sight that greeted her.

Spike's upper body was lying stiff across her lap, his eyes wide and unseeing, skin ashen. 

_Ashen..ash__...dust...oh my god...what have I done?_

Buffy emitted a strangled cry as she tried furiously to free his neck. Blood dripped on his throat as she unclenched her fingers and she stared at the cuts winding around her hands from the bite of the tightly held leather. She lifted one hand to flutter over his face and watched with growing horror as his eyes slid shut.

"Spike?" **__**

The entire roof of the cave was covered in patterns and symbols. 

A blinding white light shot from Spike's eyes and mouth, so brilliant and alive it would have burned any human being who dared to look directly at it. A similar beam, this one blue, emerged from his chest.  Together they rose towards the ageless marks on the ceiling, twisting and turning around each other until they became one pulsating stream. Skimming the surface of the roof, the essence of a soulless vampire touched on various symbols in a widening and distinct pattern. Moments later the lights separated and came crashing back home into the vampire waiting, on his knees, below. 

Spike groaned and shook his head as a world of ache and memories invaded his senses. His gaze sharpened on the little old man lighting candles on an altar and he struggled to regain his footing.

"You've got a lot of bloody nerve." Spike cringed at the slightly whining tinge his voice box had produced and tried again. "Shoulda known not to trust magic. You bollixed up the spell, I was remembering."

The man put the finishing touches on the last of the candles and turned to face Spike a whimsical smile lighting his lips as he spoke.

"It was never meant to be permanent." **__**

Spike's mouth dropped in shock. He spluttered incoherently for a few beats before regaining his equilibrium. "It was soddin too meant to be permanent like. I couldn't have made that more clear if I'd drawn a bloody diagram with charts. You were supposed to erase her, not bits and pieces of her. All of her! I can't be around her...ever. I need her out of my head. Out of my...I need her gone before she...before I...Don't you understand? I can't hurt her anymore." **__**

The little shaman crossed the divide separating them and put his hand on Spike's shoulder. An expression of kindness and understanding washed****over his features. Spike stared up at him, hard pressed to decide just when it was he'd hit his knees again.

 "I gave you what you came for. What you chose. Exactly what you chose."

Spike shook his head in denial. "No, that's not what I asked for."

Two gnarled fingers found their way to his****lips, silently shushing him. "You asked with your heart, not your voice and that is what you received." **__**

Spike looked skyward at the patterns hovering over them**_, _**his eyes glazing with tears. 

The man's voice continued but the words were unimportant at this juncture. Spike knew what he'd done and why he'd done it.

"It was all your choice, Spike. Your heart knew, even if your mind did not. There is a force greater than hate, larger than pain that binds you to her. Erasing every scrap of her existence would have killed you. She's an integral part of who you are and you of her. The best part of each other. There is no Spike without Buffy...and there is no Buffy without Spike." **__**

"She doesn't..." Spike's voice trailed off as a million ways to finish that sentence came to mind. _Need me? Deserve this?...Love me. "_I'm not what she needs. I'm nothing, evil, soulless...nothing. She knows it, I know it. Just take it away again. Help me let her go...please."

The little man shrugged with a mysterious smile on his face and pushed Spike's shirt to the side, tracing the emblem on his chest. Spike stared into the fathomless orbs of black as he felt a rush of wind pick him up and toss him back through time and space. The shaman's final words echoing in his mind. 

"That's not what you want. That's not what she needs."

In the cave, the smile spread into a full grin as the man's features shifted and darkened. Within moments a feminine shape stood in his place, silver skin glowing in the candle light. 

Sage nodded and clapped her hands together to signify the end of her job. 

"Be her center, Spike. It's what you were made for." **__**

Buffy sat huddled in a corner**_, _**her eyes trained on the events across the room. Rain was crouched over Spike, mopping at his face and talking quietly. Ian was holding his comatose sister in his lap, staring pensively at them. Buffy wrapped her arms tighter around her legs and grimaced at the wide bruise forming on her upper arm. Rain was pretty strong when she was upset and that evidence was displayed in widening finger-shaped, purple marks. She'd tried to run, tried to escape the room, the past...everything. It wasn't the first time she'd tried to distance herself from her actions, wouldn't be the last. The only thing keeping her here now was that she had nowhere to go. 

_Lie to yourself all you want, Buffy, but you know damn well that you're not going to get anywhere until you know he's safe. _

Buffy tuned out her inner monologue and fingered the marks on her bicep, needing something to distract her from the ache in her muscles that screamed at her to go be with him. Buffy closed her eyes and then quickly opened them as Spike's face came screaming back in full on Technicolor. The bruises she sported were nothing compared to the mottled black circle encasing Spike's throat.

Rocking slightly, she watched the frighteningly****still vampire and began a slow chant under her breath. "Please let him be okay**_, _**please let him be okay." 

As she watched Rain tend to Spike, her mantra picked up new phrases until finally it was taking a full minute to complete a verse. "Please let him be okay, please let him live, please don't let him hate me, please let it be all right, please just give him back, I'm so sorry, please give him back..."

One hour faded into another. The only sound in the room was Rain's quiet whispering and Buffy's choked repetition.   

Buffy jumped violently as a slight cough invaded the room. She was forced to blink repeatedly, attempting to assure herself that her mind was not just projecting her wishes. Spike's body shook and bucked twice in a steady shudder and then he was sitting up, dragging a hand through his hair. 

Dropping her head on her knees, she let out the sob of relief she'd been holding forever. 

She dug her face into her knees, not willing to give up her spot and make the last few hours reality. They were all moving, she could hear snatches of muted conversation, rising in anger and falling to persuasion until finally there was silence. Run out of options, Buffy lifted her head and watched as a pair of shoes made their way towards her. She was somewhat surprised to find Ian's earnest gaze as he crouched in front of her. 

"Rain and I are going home now. We need to make the arrangements for Sam. You can stay for the funeral if you like...with us." **__**

Buffy nodded slightly and struggled to her feet with Ian's assistance guiding her elbow. "I'll find a hotel. I don't think Spike and I should..." Her voice trailed off as words escaped her.

She felt the grip on her arm tighten and glanced up as Ian's jaw hardened. "Spike won't be there." 

Buffy stopped her forward momentum. "He doesn't have to leave because of me."

If possible Ian's face got harder and Buffy got the distinct impression she'd done something selfish. 

"He's not."

That was all the answer she received as Ian dragged her out of the room before she could say another word.

Spike could feel her watching him and slammed the car trunk down with more force than was necessary. 

_Should have just left.__ Nothing here that we couldn't have picked up along the way. _

Running a hand through his hair, he nodded at Ian who was settling his still-comatose sister in the back seat of the car. The residual blast from Cainen's demise had knocked her out good. 

Ian stood, leaning on the open door and regarded Spike. "Where will you go?"

Spike shook his head, a rueful smile crossing his lips. "You know that's not part of the plan. Take her away, keep her away. Defeats the purpose if I have to check in with an itinerary." **__**

Ian nodded and dropped his head. "I know...I just wish."

"Things could be different?" Spike's gaze strayed to the second floor window where a curtain twitched and dropped "Me too, mate, me too." **__**

Pleasantries exchanged, a quick final hand shake between friends and Ian was crossing the yard to disappear into the house. Spike turned back to the car and was about to slam the back door shut when a he felt a hand on his arm. He stared down at the petite fingers circling his forearm and slowly traveled over the wrist and up until he reached her eyes. Tilting his head, he watched as she struggled to speak.

"I'm...I'm sorry."

If he had to choose what he'd thought she would say those two words would have never made the running. But they had been said and were currently floating in the air between them with the power of a caged rabid dog. He wanted to take her in arms and scream that she should never ever be sorry. Not to him, especially not to him. He couldn't though and he wouldn't. Telling her that he knew her, really knew her, would open up a long road of trials and recriminations that they'd never return from. It was better this way, the right thing to do. He had to walk away. For her, always for her. **__**

Spike's free hand rose to the marks on his throat and then his gaze strayed to the puncture wounds on her neck.

"Both got things to be sorry for, Slayer. Don't make it better."

"No..but.."

"It's done. Let it be." Spike gently removed her hand from his arm and stepped away. 

Buffy's gaze flew around, searching, until it landed on Tasha. She took a moment to scan the comatose vampire before returning her eyes to Spike.  "You don't have to do this." **__**

Spike tensed and clenched his fists in agitation. _Yes I do, you naive bint. She can and she will hurt you. I'll hurt you. Can't you just let me save you in peace? ****_

Unable to voice his thoughts, Spike leaned casually against the car and lifted a cocky brow. "Why? You volunteering?" **__**

Buffy shook her head and accompanied it with a shiver of distaste. "No, but I don't see why it has to be you. I mean, why are you doing this? You'll be stuck with that bitch for like...ever. It's just...you're not exactly who I'd pick to make this huge sacrifice for..." 

Spike turned and gripped the top of the car, fighting the urge to ram his hands through metal and twist until she lost the power to hurt him with something as simple as words. "For what, Slayer? Don't think an evil thing like me could do it? Something so impure and rotted as the likes of me would do this to help the people he cares about?****To save them from pain? You don't know the first thing about me and that's never gonna change. I protect me and mine and I do it out of love. Love, Slayer, not some skewed sense of duty or penance from the burn of a cursed soul."

Buffy shook her head. "That not what I-"

Spike shoved away from the car violently and turned to face her.  "Don't bother, Slayer. We both know where your opinion lies, that won't ever change.  And we both know that your carefully constructed belief system wouldn't stand up to the light of day. So let's not sweat the semantics and just say that you're right. I'm doing this for purely selfish reasons. This worked out in my favour, dinnit? I save the poor misguided chit from a life of mediocrity and in return she worships the ground I walk on. Couldn't have planned this better if I'd tried, Tash here already adores me, and not for nothing, but she's a right good shag." Spike flinched as her face grew impossibly whiter. _Just hold on, luv. Almost done and then you can go back to hating me good and proper like. _"I bet she'd do anything I asked." Spike began to search for his smokes to give his final words that dramatic flair but realized belatedly he'd left his coat in the house. Improvising, he leaned in close so that his words ran into her ears like a caress. "It's gonna be great tasting human blood again."

Buffy lurched back like he'd hit her. "You can't...you won't."

Spike shrugged, a smirk curling his lips as his heart twisted in his chest. "Says the all-powerful, endlessly-righteous vampire Slayer.  Who's gonna stop me, pet?  You? Not bloody likely. We've been there and done that. V'got the scars but not that pesky urn to go with them. Wake and smell the blood, Slayer. Whatever twisted little fantasy you've got set up in your head is over. I don't want to play. I don't, bloody well, want you."

Buffy grabbed at his arm, tears glistening in her eyes. He wrenched away from her touch and strode across the lawn to retrieve his coat for the house before she could see the answering tears in his.  **__**

"Now I'm real glad I woke up in time for that."

Buffy flinched as a female voice hissed from behind. "Tasha," was her monotone reply. 

One arm banded around her waist, another her throat and a face was lowered to her ear to speak. "The one and only." 

Buffy grabbed the arm across her chest and flung Tasha unceremoniously over her head, in a move that clearly said 'Hello. Slayer here'. The vampire lay sprawled on the lawn for a moment as Buffy stood over her, hands on hips and face fixed in a resolute glare. 

Tasha propped herself up on her elbows and returned the expression, features rippling until her eyes gleamed gold in the moonlight. "I should have killed you the second you showed up." 

Buffy shrugged indifferently "You could have tried."

"Oh, make no mistake little girl, I can and I think your demise would be a charming little going away present."

Buffy cut her off with an incredulous, "Are you insane? Or really that stupid?"  Before Tasha could form a response Buffy held up a palm, shaking her head. "No, don't answer, you just keep proving it. Get this through that empty mass on top of your shoulder- you've completely screwed yourself. Your family despises you and they're shipping you off, never to be seen or heard from again. You're a disease, a pathetic little secret that should be locked away that no one can bear the sight of. How's that feel," Buffy's lips turned up in a sneer, "Tash?"

Tasha's cackle was anything but pretty. "What, are you kidding me with this? I feel, pretty damn good right now. You think I give a flying fuck what my sanctimonious brother thinks? I've got everything I wanted and let's not forget, I got the guy. Way I see, I'm sitting pretty, not to mention I get that stealing the Slayer's boyfriend right out from under her nose is going down a  real treat."

"He's not my-"

"Oh cut the crap. Just between us girls. It's killing you isn't it?"

"What?"

"The thought of him between my legs, screaming my name and not giving two shits about you huddled in your bed touching yourself to his memory." **__**

Buffy scowled, turning her face away. "You're disgusting."

Tasha took the opportunity to empty her pockets of a stolen prize while the Slayer's back was turned. "I may be disgusting but I know what he needs. Something you could never hope to imagine." 

Buffy swung back but her words died quietly on her lips as she stared at the black orb laying in Tasha's palms. _Been wondering where that got to. She raised a brow in question and Tasha raised it higher for inspection._

"This is just the neatest little thing. Like a black hole but more...travel size. It absorbs whatever it's pointed at. Takes the demon out of the demon, the witch out of the witch and the..."

"Slayer out of the Slayer." Buffy finished with a sense of foreboding. **__**

Tasha finally found her feet and nodded in agreement. "Mmm, only one glitch with that. Seems to destroy the host as well. Now if Sam were around I could ask him how to fix that considering he was the one who discovered this little marvel to begin with. But, as you know, he's deader than a doornail and I'm really not thinking that I want you around, Slayered up or otherwise." **__**

Buffy instinctively took a step back as comprehension dawned. "It was you. Before, in the hall, it wasn't smashing the orb, it was this. You used that on Cainen." 

Tasha laughed "Course I did. He was gonna let you kill Spike and that was never part of the plan."

Buffy retreated further until her back came up against the car. Her eyes riveted to the swirls of black erupting in the ball. "Why? You've won. What's the point?"

With a shrug, Tasha lifted the ball in her hands above her head. "The point, little girl, is that****he's mine and as long as you're still breathing, some long-buried, sentimental, tiny piece of him won't forget you." 

"And you think my dying is going to what? Eradicate me from his mind? It didn't work last time. And, you know, just between us girls, he will never, ever love something like you. But, hey, whatever gets you through the night." **__**

Tasha stomped her foot like a petulant child. "He does love me, he's just confused. It's you, you're tainting him, messing up his head. You don't have the slightest clue what we have together."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh please, I know exactly what you have and I know _exactly _what you don't have. You may not have noticed, what with all the manipulating and bitching, but I know what it feels like to have Spike love you. It possesses and it burns and you feel like its going to drag you right along into a place you never could have imagined existed, but it's so good that you let yourself drown. I know that you can feel the depth of that love from the merest brush of his fingers along your arm. What it means when he's so deep inside you, that you can't decide what part of your body is his and which is yours. But you know, just from his eyes, that it's only the beginning. I know what it means to have Spike love you and I know that you will never, ever begin to touch that part of him. No matter where you go or what you do, one thing will always remain the same..." **__**

Tasha was within inches of Buffy's face, her rage almost bursting out of her skin. "What," she ground between her teeth, "is that?"

Buffy smiled as she leaned impossibly closer, her voice was soft but deadly in its clarity. "You. Will. Never. Be. Me."****

Tasha's rage exploded from her throat in a cry that reverberated through the night. The sound crawled up Buffy's spine and lodged in her chest. Her lungs constricted and air was a rare commodity. Dropping to her knees, she clawed desperately at a black mist churning around her body. A silent scream formed on her lips as the first of what she knew would me many cuts sliced across her abdomen. Buffy started to throw her face skyward in a vain attempt to still the pain but was stopped mid-motion as her eyes locked with the figure standing over Tasha's shoulder. 

Tasha turned her head her to see what her victim was staring at so intently. She smiled through her fangs as Spike reached for her raised wrists. 

"Why Tash?," he whispered, softly.

Tasha raised her eyebrows in confusion. "For you, baby. To set you free."

"Make it stop, baby. For me. Make it stop."

Taasha let him take one wrist****in his hand and turned to face him, still holding the orb aloft with the other. "Sshhh, don't worry, " she said, stroking his face. "It will be over soon and we can leave. I'll make you so happy, baby, just like you said." 

Spike nodded and pulled her tight against him, pressing his cheek to hers. "I know you  would, Tash. I know you would." **__**

Tasha's features froze in confusion even as he lifted his arm in a wide arc behind her back, driving a stake deep. He grasped her chin and looked directly into her eyes. "But you never could, not really. You're not her." 

Tasha's ashes drifted softly to the ground. **__**

The orb dropped to the grass. Spike lifted one boot smashing it beneath.  A wide circle of black oil spread across the ground, enveloping the ashes where they lay before sinking into the earth. 

Struggling to her feet, Buffy ran towards where Spike had hit his knees in a moan of pain. Stopping halfway as her gaze followed his, she stared at the motionless house and back to the stiller vampire. Ian...Rain... "Why?"

A low, mirthless laugh strangled from his throat. His words were****low but unmistakable. "You've destroyed every single part of me that makes my life worth living and still...at the end, I will always choose you. God help me, but it's always going to be you." 

Buffy stumbled back from the anguish in his voice. She'd done it again, stripped him of everything until all he had left was her. Shoving a fist in her mouth to dull the scream, she backed father and farther away, until she finally turned and ran blindly for the car.  Within seconds, she was peeling out of the driveway and down the street.**__**

****

.


	13. The beginning and the end 4

Buffy rested her head on the steering wheel, trying to ignore the various groans of the car. Apparently running over a cement divider was not conductive to the whole driving process. She needed to get out and check the damage and she would...any second now. She watched her hand shift off the wheel. It flitted over the cell phone flung haphazardly on the passenger seat. _Stupid phone.  It was all it's****fault she'd crashed the car. _

Okay, it might have had more to do with the shock of Rain's, presumed dead, voice on the line. 

Buffy was still kind of fuzzy on what had happened. She remembered hearing Rain saying say something about a broken spell and then there was the big cement thing jumping out into the middle of the road. The important thing was that everyone was fine. Buffy stilled her hand over the silent phone and her fingers twitched. _Yeah...fine_.  Burying her face on her arm, she flipped the dial on the radio and closed her eyes. 

_Any second._

_Another day has almost come and gone  
Can't imagine what else could go wrong  
Sometimes I'd like to hide away somewhere and lock the door  
A single battle lost but not the war _

The slow refrain eased into her heart and took root. Tears dripped silently down her face. Was it ever going to be easy? Were they ever going to see the end of this eternal battle they fought against each other and themselves? A vampire and a Slayer...it was utterly absurd. It couldn't end well. 

_End. _

_Please_. 

Even when this thing was absolutely, one hundred percent, over, it still wasn't finished. 

  
  
_Cause tomorrow's another day  
And I'm thirsty anyway  
So bring on the rain_

She should just drive. Keep going. Run hard and run fast...until that inevitable gravitational drag and drop which eternally existed between their hearts, pulled them kicking and screaming back into the morbid little dance. Sooner or later they'd end up killing each other. This time had almost been the one. 

_  
  
It's almost like the hard times circle 'round  
A couple drops and they all start coming down_

Was it destined to end this way? Were they supposed to destroy each other? 

_Yeah, I might feel defeated,  
I might hang my head  
I might be barely breathing –_

_ but I'm not dead_

Buffy raised her head as the songs lyrics twisted in her brain. She wasn't dead, not anymore, and neither was he. Vampire physiology not withstanding. They'd survived. Again. Survived each other. Again. For what? To pick up the pieces and move on? Apart? Together? What? 

_I'm not gonna let it get me down  
I'm not gonna cry  
And I'm not gonna lose any sleep tonight_

She closed her eyes and saw him in her mind. Not the broken figure she'd created, nor the cocky bad ass he'd been, but the person he could be. The one that Willow and Sage had hinted at, the one she'd seen a million times, in dozens of tiny little ways. The man she'd tried to beat out when the reality of their transgressions became too much for her. Those same traits were the ones she'd clung to, later, lying curled in her bed in England...when she had nothing else to hold onto. The man he was, underneath the swagger, the smoke, the accent. The companion, the friend, the lover, the man who loved her. The man she...  **__**

_Cause'_

_Tomorrow's another day  
And I am not afraid   
So bring on the rain_

The car was in gear, Buffy shimmied valiantly away from her last thought before the final refrain could fade into the air. 

Not this way.

A screech of twisted metal, a minor u-turn and she was back on the road. 

If epiphany was going to rear its ugly head, then it was damn well gonna do it to her face...to his face. **__**

It was exactly seven steps from the dresser to the bed. Nine from the door to the window. If you cut crosswise between the window to the dresser, a route could be established to all points in the room. That took fourteen steps. Spike was on step eight for the fifty-sixth continuous circuit. **__**

On his way by,****he glared at the bed covered with girly bits and slaying weapons. A loud, wholly inhuman roar traversed the house**_, _**threatening to rattle the windows from their panes. With jerky gestures and a mind of menace the comforter was cleared of all evidence a Slayer had ever unpacked there. The twang of metal and wood colliding echoed softly as they found rest on bits of satin and lace. Spike stared at the floor for a moment before flopping spread eagle on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He brought his hand slowly to his face and inhaled. Wrapped tightly around his fist was the briefest bit of a scarf.  **__**

_Can't bloody well escape her.__ She's everywhere. Everything I touch, everything I see, feel, hear. _

He lifted the scarf in front of his face and a self-deprecating smile crossed his lips as he spoke.

"I'm drowning in you Summers. Drowning." **__**

_Nothing's changed. Never going to. Never going to be free. Never. _

Dropping the scarf, one hand fell over his eyes. The other twisted restlessly in the covers. He could smell her. 

_Mind_, _might be a spot simpler to escape if you weren't lying on her soddin bed!_

Spike groaned and drove his fingers in his pockets, searching for his smokes with the mislaid intention of warding off her scent. His hand encountered a metal on his endeavor and he pulled it out curiously. It took a moment for his mind to assimilate what he was seeing; a small green tin of mints. He shook it slightly and the resulting rattle assured him that the previous owner had kept it stocked. He smoothed his fingers over the leather of his coat lifted the collar slightly, raising it to his nose.

_She wore it? No, you wanker, it got mixed in with her stuff. Rubbed up against her things._

His gaze strayed back to the mints. With a sound somewhere between a sob and a growl, he closed his eyes and chucked the tin across the room.  **__**

Buffy took the stairs two at a time. 

She'd just pulled into the driveway when the most god-awful roar erupted from the house and she'd wasted no time crashing through the front door and hitting the stairs. 

Reaching the landing, she ran full out towards the bedroom, one thought pacing her steps. 

_Spike's in pain._****

Fumbling with the knob, she threw open the door and stopped short as she was struck in the head by a flying missile.  **__**

Buffy stared down at the tin her hands had automatically lifted to catch. Raising her gaze slowly, she watched the vampire lying on her bed with a mixture of shock and humor crossing his features before all expression faded and he shrugged. "Yours anyway," he said before dropping his head back to the pillow and his gaze to the ceiling.

Buffy nodded slowly and crossed to place the tin on the dresser, the muscles in her back involuntarily tensed and then slowly relaxed one by one as her fingers stroked the smooth metal. "When?, "she said on a whispery breath.

 "Bout the time you were trying to twist my head off, I suspect. Or right after, gets a bit blurry towards the end there."

Buffy watched her reflection in the dresser's mirror, listening to a voice that, if the mirror was to be believed, was not there. "Why?"

The silence was deafening and she wondered if he was going to deliberately mistake her question. But, apparently, he had come to the same conclusions as she had because his reply was a quiet and wholly heart-felt. "You know why."

Buffy squared her shoulders and turned slowly to face the bed.

_Not good enough, Spike. Answer time. _

He never heard her move. She had a stealth that could rival a vamps when she put her mind to it. All he knew was one second she was at the dresser, the next she had his chin in her little hand and was staring unblinking in his eyes. "Tell me why."

Spike ripped his chin free and shoved her away, bouncing off the bed in the process. "We're not going to do this, Slayer. We're not going to yank out all the pain and roll around in it so that you can convince yourself once again what a disgusting being I am. You already know it. Fuck, I know it. So let's just let the whole bloody lot drop once and for all.  You can drag out that huge blanket of deniability you so enjoy, and we can both forget that we ever met."

"Would you stop! It's not that easy!"

Spike stared at her. His heart had jumped somewhere in his throat and his fists formed knots at his sides. She looked tired. His head tilted slightly at that and another distinction her body screamed washed over him. She was scared. He crossed in halting steps to kneel before her, his hands resting on either side of her hips as he stared intently into her face. 

"Nothing about you is easy, Summers." He lifted a lock of hair off her face and tucked it softly behind her ear.  "Never has been...never could be. You are..." His voice trailed off as his eyes traced the curve of her cheek before landing in the clouded doubt of her eyes. "I want to stop hurting you. I want you to stop hurting me. I just want this to...stop." **__**

_Stop._

Spike tensed as a flinch rolled over her skin and he recoiled quickly as if attacked. Words from _that night scrambled in his mind and he found himself backpedaling on the floor until he came up against the dresser. "I di-didn't mean. I wouldn't...not...not...never again, Buffy." Spike wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face in his knees._

It could have been minutes, could have been hours, he had no clue. All he knew was that Buffy was kneeling before him, forcing his chin up. For once he couldn't read her eyes and it scared the shit out of him.

 "I want it to stop too."

Spike gaped at her in confusion. This was the part where he became intimate with a pointy bit of wood, right? 

Buffy Summers had been taken over by pod people. **__**

That was the only logical explanation. Why else would the girl he'd loathed and loved and...loved to loathe, be sitting all cozy on the floor babbling about car crashes and epiphanies and...

"So I thought that, maybe, I might, somewhere deep...deep down, might, sorta, in some small way, could, kinda love you."

He watched her hands fold in her lap and twist on themselves before settling as the silence stretched between them. 

"Spike?"

He raised a bemused gaze to her concerned face. 

Buffy thought her heart was going to pound right out of her chest. She'd done it. She'd told him she loved him...pretty much, and now he was just sitting there staring at her with a slightly constipated look on his face.

"Spike?"

"Hmmm?"

"Aren't you...do you...what are you thinking?"

Spike jumped to his feet in a sudden blur of motion until he was towering over, anger vibrating through his body. "What do I think!? What do I think!?"

Buffy shrunk back a bit and nodded.

"Well, I'll tell you what I think." Spike paused as he made an agitated search of his pockets, coming up with a cigarette and lighting it before pointing the glowing tip at her. "I think," he said, through a stream of smoke, "that I just wasted the last five years of my bloody life is what I think! All those schemes and puppy dog panting I did, after your highly exalted self, and all I had to do was shove your skinny ass in the Desoto, send you out on a merry little jaunt and you kinda, maybe, might have, real deep down, coulda loved me!"

Buffy swallowed convulsively and looked away. "I didn't mean it like that."

Spike's face loomed in her view, a near snarl twisting his mouth and drowning his words in malice. "Then how did you mean it?"

Buffy spread her fingers out before him as if pleading for understanding. "I guess...I mean that...I don't know what I mean."

Spike roared and rose to his feet. He spun away from her and rammed his fist into the nearest wall. Leaning his forehead against the plaster, he began banging his head against it. "Bloody." Smash. "Stupid." Bang. "Infuriating." Thump. "Psychotic." Whack. "Aggravating bitch." Smack.

He flinched when her hand touched his shoulder blade and let his head fall for the last time. "Why are you doing this to me? Why are you lying to me?"

Her voice washed over his skin like a thousand tiny pin pricks, small and painful. "The least you could do is call me a liar to my face." 

"Love to, pet, but my hand is stuck in the wall."****

Spike flinched as he rotated his shoulder, some from the pain, mostly because of the petite woman striding around the bedroom, swearing. Shaking his head, he took off his coat, lit a cigarette off the one he was currently smoking and sat in a chair to watch the show. He could catch snippets of the one-sided conversation she was conducting, something about stupid, silver wanna-be gods and though he wasn't sure there might have been the odd bit about Red in there too. 

The object of his fascination came to a grinding halt in front of his face. It took considerable effort to force his gaze up into her angry eyes. 

With all the nonchalance a former Big Bad could muster, he threw one arm over the back of the chair, raised a sardonic brow that cleary stated, "Can I help you?"

He could see the effort it was taking her not to saw her tongue in half as she bit back what was sure to be a less than complimentary statement on his persona in general. "I said," she ground, between clenched teeth, "who in the hell do you think you are?"

Spike shrugged and picked a point well above her head to speak to. "Look, luv, it was a nice try. You almost had me there but we both know what's real here. The only way we work is between the sheets. You and I wouldn't make it in the light of day, figuratively speaking. It's not like we could set up in some flat and argue over the laundry. We'll never be friends and we'll never be lovers, not in the real sense. All we could be is fuck partners and as you recall that didn't work out so well. So turn your sweet little ass around." He raised one casual finger and swirled it in the air. "Go be the bloody chosen one and leave me be."  **__**

Buffy grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. "Is that what you want?"

He wrenched back from her grip and made a show of smoothing out the material. "Not making myself clear enough? How's this? Get the fuck out. Even a lack wit like you could suss out the hidden meaning in that one."

Buffy stumbled back liked he'd hit her, shaking her head. "You...don't mean it. I know you don't."

Spike stared at the ceiling, the pain in his heart swiftly becoming unbearable. _Please, he pleaded in his mind _Please, just go before I destroy you. _Lowering his head, his face bore no trace of the turmoil ripping through him. In its place was the cold impassive stare of a man with no conscience. 'I do mean it. How many times do I have to tell you, how many ways? I will always love you, Buffy, but...I. Don't. Want. You. Anymore."_

He was facing the window when the door slammed shut. Lifting shaky fingers to the sill, he leaned his face against the cool surface and let the first of what he knew would be many sobs rack his frame. 

So it came as a bit of a shock when something hard whapped him in the head.

Before he could figure out what the offending object had been, he was flying across the room and landing face first on the bed. He rolled onto his back in time to have an enraged slayer land on top of him. She grabbed his shoulders and pinned him to the bed before he could move. "You know I really didn't want to do it this way."

Spike tried desperately to gather back up the bits of bravado he'd been clinging too.  "Do what luv? One more for the road?" Tongue curling over teeth, he braced himself for the inevitable blow, and was stunned as her mouth crashed onto his. 

The kiss was so brief he almost wasn't sure it had happened because within seconds he found himself staring up into that 'little girl lost' look that made him melt. "I don't want to hurt you anymore," she whispered.

He raised his fingers, brushing the tips over her trembling lips. "Buffy, don't you get it, don't you see? It's not about you hurting me, I already know that this pain twisting around in my gut will never end but, luv,...I can't not...he stopped speaking and gripped her chin, forcing her to see him as his features shifted and the demon always squirming under the surface emerged. "Hurt you."

Buffy sat up slowly. He let her go, resting back on the bed, watching her. She'd leave. Now that she had to stare this farce in the face, the Slayer inside would make the only choice possible. He forced his eyes to remain open, needed to have the sight of her final rejection etched in his heart for eternity. Maybe it would be enough to keep him away. **__**

Buffy's laugh was harsh. "That's it," she said, waving her hand in front of his face. "That's the best you got. I know what you are**_, _**Spike. Do you honestly think I didn't notice all those time you shredded through the bedding when you came? I know exactly who and what I was in bed with." 

The huge jaw drop would have been quite comical in other circumstances but right now she was too pissed off to find the chuckles in any of this. 

"You knew?"****he stammered.

Buffy rolled her eyes in a silent duh. 

Spike flapped his hands in the air. "You never..."

She raised a brow, intimately****displaying her disgust. "Said anything? What was I supposed to say? Umm gee, Spike, while  I'm pretty much using you as my own personal sex toy and punching bag, that is while I'm simultaneously ignoring that you exist, could you pretty please show me your fangs?"**__**

Spike shrugged and took deep interest in the head board beside his face. "Coulda said something."

Buffy's hands shot out and ran over his face, turning him so that he had no choice but to look at her. "No, I couldn't. I know what this means. I know what you wanted." She traced the ridges. "Those marks on my back..." She dropped her hand and tilted her head, not menacing, just mildly curious. "Did you honestly think I would have let you claim me?"

He watched her for a moment before responding. "No, s'pose not." His eyes strayed to the holes in her neck and his body responded to one pressed intimately to his lower half. He sat up, bringing their faces within inches of each others.  "And now?" 

She wasn't sure of the answer to that question but her body seemed to have come up with its own conclusions as her head tilted to the side and her hair slid away from her neck. 

He shook his head and buried his face in her chest. "You don't mean it." 

She made no sound. Instead she ran her fingers through his hair, over his neck and shoulders to drop into soothing strokes up and down his back. 

Tears dripped down his face as fangs scraped across her skin and she shuddered. He raised his head, prepared for disgust, surprised to find tears of regret shimmering in her eyes. He slowly brought their lips together, lightly caressing her mouth with his, careful not to cut her.

_What am I doing!? She doesn't mean it. She can't, she wouldn't..._

"God, help me," was whispered against her lips even as his hands dropped to her waist, slid beneath her ass and lifted her against him as he rose. Turning, he fell back towards the bed, landing roughly and trapping her beneath him. One arm slid from under her back to brace himself and he stared at her flushed face in frank fascination.

Eyes never leaving hers, he trailed his hand from her collarbone, across her breasts down to her ribcage and laid it flat against her stomach. She had one hand wrapped in the hair at the nape of his neck. The other was drifting across his chest, releasing the buttons on his shirt. He watched with a calm he was far from feeling as she reached the last button and pushed the material off his body. Her fingers were hesitant and slightly shaky as she smoothed them over his bare torso. Watching her flick and flutter over his skin brought reality crashing down. She wasn't sure, she was never going to be sure. 

Wrapping his fingers in the mass of her hair, he forced her gaze to his. "Expecting something else, luv? Someone else? Still the same demon I always was. Same one that tried to rip you apart in that bathroom."

He watched a tear roll off her cheek and drop to tangle in her hair. "No, I'm just..."

Clutching her hip, he dropped his mouth to her ear. His softly-whispered statement made her buck violently in his arms. 

"Tell me you want me."

He was sure she was going to shove him off and head for the door but her voice emerged, shaky but coherent. "I want you."

Spike raised his head and stared at her for a minute, gold clashing with green. 

"Tell me you love me."

The muscles worked her throat as Buffy fought hard to swallow. "I...love...you."

Spike's eyes flashed fire at the obvious lie.  "Shut up," he growled. Shoving himself up, he twisted to sit on the edge of the bed and let his head drop to his hands, a soft sob escaping his lips. 

Soft, tentative fingers ran over his shoulder blade. Spike ignored it as he took a good long wallow in self pity. Finally he had no choice but to surface as he realized that Buffy had been sitting there for ten minutes tracing the same pattern over and over on his back.  He glanced back over his shoulder to see her crouched behind him in apparent abject fascination with his skin. "What?"

Buffy jumped when he spoke and then dragged her eyes to his. He had no idea what he expected her to say but he knew it was not even in the same realm with the words she spoke.

"Tara died. So did Willow and Xander...and...you weren't there." **__**

Spike knew that moment. He'd seen it before, those precious few seconds when your whole life depended on the choice you made. Song lyrics filtered through his mind 'should I stay or should I go'. Within seconds, he was settled back against the head board, a quietly crying Slayer in his arms.

_Like I ever had a bloody choice.___

"You know my name is carved in your skin, right?"

Spike stared at the top of her head. "Was aware, yes."

Buffy sat up and crawled off his lap to kneel in front of him. "So...why. Would be the obviousness here."

Spike itched slightly at his chest and shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

He watched the slight jut of her lip as she worked up to the question she wanted to ask. "And now?"

Sighing, he ran his hand along her jaw until it drifted into her hair. "Buffy, listen to me. We...us, is a bad idea. We know it, but..."

Her mouth opened on a soft breath. "But?"

He dropped his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "No matter how far away, I will always, always, belong to you. That's what it means." **__**

_Okay, so that whole face to face thing was a metaphor. It's entirely possible for the moment of truth to be back to face, right? ****_

Buffy felt like she'd spent the last****however many, years trying to solve a really difficult problem and then someone handed her the answer and full explanation. 

_With flashcards and slide shows, _she mused wryly._ ****_

He'd erased bits of his past, he'd scarred himself...all in her name. Literally. She'd finally come to the realization that she'd been going about things all wrong. Through all the crap, she'd been looking at things with the viewpoint of what she needed. Needed to save her friends, needed to move to England, needed to chase after Dawn, needed to help the Council, needed Spike...needed...need...needy. 

_What about want? _

Take away her friends, her Watcher, her sister, the Council, the Slayer and the vampire and what did Buffy Summers want?

_Step, step, simple, precise.___

_Buffy loved Spike._

_Now all I have to do is convince the idiot. ****_

His equilibrium was slightly faulty from when she pulled him around to lie on the bed with her. Or at least that's what he was blaming his shaky fingers on as they lay taut against her stomach. It had nothing what-so-ever to do with the fact that she was bare from the waist up. He was still trying to suss out when she'd removed her shirt. Taking a deep breath he slid his fingers further and toyed with the button on her jeans before releasing it and then the zipper. He stared at her hips for a moment before lifting his gaze back to her face. 

_The beginning and the end.___

"Last chance," he breathed with an unsteady tremor, watching her face for the slightest glimmer of hesitation. 

She had to be remembering that fateful night in the bathroom. He knew he was. Laying his hand flush over her open zipper, he closed his eyes and waited for her response.

Which came in the nonverbal variety. With a tiny sigh that sounded part defeat, part relief she lifted her hips. Turning off that voice in his brain that belabored the inherent wrongness of it all, he slid down the bed and grasped the edges of her jeans, pulling the whole lot off in one swift motion. 

_Her choice.__ Right or wrong be damned. _

Kneeling between her thighs, he took her hands and placed them on the buckle of his belt. She had to do it, had to be the one. Buffy sat up and he almost laughed at the picture she made, with her tongue caught firmly between her teeth as she concentrated on removing him from his clothes. 

Within moments, they were both kneeling on the bed facing each other, not a stitch of material between them. His eyes roamed impatiently over her, trying to reacquaint himself with all of her at once. Buffy moved first, running her fingers over a wide scar across his thigh. The tiniest touch of her hand on his leg drove a sharp quiver through his system. It had been too long. 

He was forced to lie down, before he fell down, as she was suddenly everywhere at once. He stared at her in wonder as she catalogued every scar, every muscle, every hair on his body with lips, teeth and tongue. Spike lifted an eyebrow when she began examining his toes.

"Not that I'm not appreciative but what in the holy hell are you doing?"

Buffy looked up from her intent perusal and a slight blush ran over her cheek bones. "I never...before... I never..."

Spike took her hand and pulled her up. "Never looked at what you were touching." Buffy nodded and ducked her head. Lifting her chin, he rained soft kisses across her flushed cheeks until he found her lips. 

_Buffy lips.___

_Mountain water after a week in the desert._

_The last rays of sunset on a perfect summer day._

_Home and hell all in one._

Releasing the embarrassment, she grew savage in her ministrations attacking his mouth, scraping her nails over her skin and grinding her hips against his in an eternal battle of power. He moaned quietly under the onslaught and drove his fingers into her hair as she clutched at his shoulders. Falling backwards, he dragged her over his body and tore her head away from his.

Buffy's eyes opened and she stared in something akin to shock as he seized her hips and forced to remain motionless. 

"No, luv, not this time. We can have that later. Right now, we need..." His hands slid up her back in a slow easy pattern. "This." 

A deep groan was ripped from inside when she lowered her head and gently kissed a path down his neck and across his chest. "Like this?," she breathed into his skin. Spike lost the capacity of speech as a fire erupted under his flesh and spun in an ever enlarging spiral through his system. Each lazy touch, each whispered breath increased the heat and sent jolts of painful pleasure coursing over and through him. With a rough growl, belying his previous words, he flipped her to her back. 

He needed this so desperately his teeth ached. Needed her to see him, feel him...know him. 

Leaning on his side, he grasped her wrists and stretched them above her head, watching her face for the first sign of reluctance. The words all or nothing flitted through his head as he waited. Buffy stared back with a single minded determination he hadn't seen in years and shifted her hip closer to his. Spike slowly released her hands with a look that clearly stated 'don't move' and ran his fingers in taunting movements over her skin. Up and down, over and over, he teased and caressed. Never dallying in one place for long. He needed his touch to be everywhere, needed his presence to linger on her skin long after today. Never once did he let her break their gaze as he slowly brought her body to a fiery pitch of pleasure and then subsequently tipped her screaming down into painful unfulfilled erotica.

Her body writhed on the bed, her thighs rubbing together and her shoulders and hips rising and falling on the bed in fevered need. Tears streamed from her eyes and her throat emitted a continuous stream of guttural moans as he continued stroking her. Down her hip, over her knee, up between her thighs, kneading the muscles and dipping shallowly into her warmth before continuing his path up over the slightest curve that remained in her belly, dancing over her ribs, smoothing the soft flesh of her breasts and back to her neck before he began the journey again. His name danced across her lips in waves of benediction until she gave in and closed her eyes against the onslaught of his determined gaze. 

Stilling his actions, he rose above her, planting his hands firmly on either of her head and leaving a whisper of air between their straining bodies. "Open your eyes, Buffy."

Her eyes flew open and a mass of tears spilled out.  He caught one on his thumb and brushed it across her mouth. "I don't have a soul, I don't have a beating heart, I don't have any of those things that men promise women when they pledge their love. All I have is blunted fangs and my eternal devotion. But for better or worse, they are yours. So please, if there is any compassion left for me in you, don't tell me pretty lies. Not now."

She slowly brought her hands up to cup his face, her thumbs tracing light patterns over his cheek bones. Lifting her face the inches that separated them, she slid warm kisses over his lips, against his nose and across his eyes before returning to his mouth. A slight smile curved her mouth as she lay back and lifted her hips, slowly rotating them in small, inward circles until she reached the center and started outwards. His arms were shaking under the pressure but he remained still as she opened her body to him and brought him along in the widening tide of her pleasure. Her ankles slid up his calves and locked behind his knees as she used the leverage to lift her hips and grind harder against his body. With one causal hand she wrapped her hand in the back of his hair and pulled his head slowly towards hers. He was mesmerized by the light and erotic passion dancing in her eyes depths as she ground against him and he so desperately wanted to go with her. Be with her. Be hers. 

She kissed him once and then dragged his face into the curve of her neck. Her breath whispered along his skin and to drop in his ear. "It's okay, Spike. It's time. No more lies, no more pain, just us, just this, just now."

He wasn't sure when he started crying. Could have been when he finally let his arms down and slid them underneath her, partly to pull her closer, partly to just hold on to the one thing he had always wanted and never thought he'd have. Or it might have been when he started rolling his hips in rhythm with hers and his body remembered how perfect they fit. How no one, not ever, had made him feel so complete. But it was probably when he realized that the voice whispering 'I love you' over and over again wasn't his; it was hers. 

"Buffy," he gasped. Turning his face to bedding, away from the temptation of her neck

She held him tighter and pressed her neck against his face. "Just now, Spike. Just now."

His fangs slid through her skin effortlessly and he felt the effect travel through her system. She tensed****her body and bowed against him until she was almost bent in half. He started to raise his head but was stopped by the pressure of her hand on the back of his neck, pushing him tighter against her. She convulsed once and then slid back to the bed.  Her legs climbed around his back and her hips rocked fiercely against his. 

Spike was lost. His body was perfectly in sync in its opposite movements. For every shallow sip he took from her neck he drove deeper and deeper into her center. He felt when her breath caught and her body seized as the reaction pumped blood faster and faster down his throat. Ripping his head up, he stared into her clear eyes, as he said what he'd been dreaming of for five long years.

"Mine."

Buffy shattered around him as his roar pierced the night as went gratefully spinning into the abyss with her. 

"So you and Angel never..."

Buffy shook her head. "A world of no. I was sixteen, the only thing I was thinking about was where my feet should go, not the inner workings of the vampire sexual psyche. So you can lay off the 'who got where first' any second now."

Buffy stared at the ceiling. This was the second time today she'd had the dead weight of a vampire splayed out on top of her. Wriggling her hips slightly, she felt a residual tingle work its way up her spine and grinned. _Much better this way._

Spike raised his head and lifted an eyebrow at her amused look. "What?"

Buffy turned slightly to face him. "Nothing," she said, running her fingers over his collar bone.

He took her hand, stilling the movement. "We need to talk."

Buffy nodded, trying to school her features which kept threatening to break out in a huge grin any second. 

"Why, luv? Why now?"

"As opposed to why not before?" At his nod, she sighed and freed her fingers from his grip. "We've been through hell and back, some our fault, some not, but in the end it's always been the two of us until..."

 "It wasn't," he finished for her. Guilt at not being there when needed clouded his eyes. 

"Right, until it wasn't and stuff happened and you weren't there to pull me through...pull me back and I realized how much I needed you to be there." _There, _she breathed, _Simple_. __

"You realized you loved me."

_Or not._

"No, not then," she said slowly. And quickly scrambled to grab his hand as he started to pull away. "But I knew I needed you, not just this," she gestured to the bed and their general state of undress. "You, the guy that held my hand when I came back, the one who patted my shoulder when my mom was sick, the guy who made stupid jokes at my birthday party, the guy who would have done anything to make me smile. You, Spike, I need-, no, I wanted you." **__**

"But what about...why don't you hate me?"

She lay her fingers against his lips. "There are things that can't be forgiven...by either of us and we can either wallow in them or we can put them away. Spike, I love you. Not in a hearts and flowers kinda way or in an 'oh, you grew on me, kinda way but here." They both looked at their hands entwined over her heart. "It's good and it's right and it's ours." 

He brushed his fingers over her forehead. "I love you, Buffy Ann Summers."

"I love you, William Christopher Aldridge."

Spike smiled back at her and then his forehead crinkled in confusion. "How'd you know my name?"

Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and slid their bodies together. There were a million and one things to share about the events that had got them there and where they would go from here but right now... "No more talking. Talking later." 

Spike lowered his head and nipped at the fresh bites. "Right you are, Slayer, right you are."

Epilogue.

Two heads lifted as a loud roar and a high scream dove through the ceiling, making Rain and Ian jump slightly.

Ian shook his head, a wistful smile crossing his features. "You know we haven't renewed our claim in-"

Rain shoved his hand off her thigh. "In a week. It's been one friggin week."

Ian shrugged and ducked his head. "It's been eight days, technically longer than a week."

His gaze drifting over the assorted herbs on the table, Ian raised a brow. "Are you sure we should be doing this...I mean without telling them."

Rain sighed in frustration. "We _are going to tell them...after. Now shush and hand me that baggie."_

"Something tells me they aren't gonna be too pleased to know you're binding them without permission."

"Maybe not at first but once they get used to the idea..."

"Rain..."

Rain slammed her hands down on the table. "Would you want to watch me grow old and die."

"No..."

"Then hand me the damn herbs."

"Fine," Ian said, crossing his arms over his chest. "But if they get pissed**_, _**I'm letting the Slayer beat you up."

Rain leaned over and kissed him soundly, extracting the bag from his grip. "No, you won't."

"No I won't," Ian grumbled under his breath as he turned back to futz with the mecca of ingredients on the table. "What's this?"

Rain raised an exasperated eye to the small business card Ian was holding. "Oh, that's Sage's replacement."

"They get replacements?"

Rain shrugged. "Apparently. She stopped by when you were in the shower."

Ian tossed the card back to the table, his eyes tracing the letters. 

_Willow___

_Lessons of the Heart division_

A/N: Thank you to every single one of you who reviewed, emailed, and asked about this fic. I am without words on how amazing you all are.

I do have a few extra notes of gratitude to say.

To Trisha: Never, ever would have been able to do this without you.

To Heller: For your eternal support.

To Ali: You deserve the plaques and so much more. 

To Brandi: From one fan girl to another. 

Thank you all. 


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